


The Mystery of John Myers' Abduction

by serenityabrin



Category: Hellboy (Movies)
Genre: Abduction, Elven politics, M/M, Minor Violence, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenityabrin/pseuds/serenityabrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Hellboy II: The Golden Army, a civil war has broken out among the magical creatures.  John is recalled from Antarctica to help out.  On a mission, he disappears mysteriously, only to return a week later with no memory of what happened.  Now, strange things are happening to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mystery of John Myers' Abduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeza_red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeza_red/gifts).



"Hello, Agent Myers."

"Dr. Pine."

"It's good to see you again. How are you doing today?"

Sinking uncomfortably into the chair on the other side of the doctor's desk, John said, "I guess . . . I guess I've been better."

"Because of the mission last night?"

John sighed. "They told you about that?"

Dr. Pine gave John a sympathetic smile. "You disappeared for a week and no one -- including _you_ \-- knows what happened. Of course we're going to keep an eye on you. Why don't you tell me what happened last night?"

Eyes darting around the spartan office, John needed a moment before he said, "I thought I was doing well. I've been out in the field eighteen times since I was found. Nothing went wrong on those missions."

"What was different about last night's mission then?"

John frowned. "I don't know. Most of the missions I've been on have been very anticlimactic. By the time we reached the site, the activity was over. There were signs of a struggle and some dead bodies but nothing active. It's just been clean-up work for us."

"Could it be that this time you were in danger?" Dr. Pine asked.

Shaking his head, John said, "No, I don't think so. I mean, _most_ of the missions have been clean-up but not all of them. I've had a few close calls. More . . . more than I'd care to admit actually."

The last was said in a whisper and his eyes darted towards the wall.

Dr. Pine observed him for long enough that he wanted to squirm. "You haven't been hurt though."

"I don't feel like I was hurt last night," John said quickly. "I was knocked off my feet--"

"And hit your head," Dr. Pine interrupted.

"But not knocked out," John corrected her. "Not even a concussion. It just . . . it just doesn't feel like something that should be bothering me."

"Is it?" When John gave her a confused look, Dr. Pine clarified, "Is it bothering you? Or is there something else? Why are you in my office, Agent Myers? What happened last night that's led you here?"

John should've known she'd see right through him; it's why he trusted her after all. Still, it wasn't so easy to actually say. He rubbed his hands on his slacks, trying again to make sense of it in his own mind.

Dr. Pine waited patiently.

"It was . . . The situation was more serious than I . . . than I let on. When I was knocked down, the entity was right there and it . . . I was in danger."

A slight furrow between her eyebrows was the only sign of Dr. Pine's concern upon hearing this. She still didn't say anything, waiting as the seconds ticked by and John continued to be silent.

"I was shooting but my bullets were just ricocheting off the creature's skin and it was coming at me. When it knocked me down, well, that should've been it. I was dazed. Winded. The thing was coming at me, _looming_ over me. There wasn't anything I could do . . ."

"So, what happened?" Dr. Pine asked quietly.

Hesitating for only a moment, John finally let loose some of the frustration that had been building since his abduction. "I don't know. I really don't. One moment the monster was about to kill me and the next it was on the other side of the room and cut to pieces. I don't know what happened. I don't even know _how_ it was killed. Certainly nothing we had was making a dent in the thing. But there it was, pieces lopped off and scattered all around. It couldn't have been more than a dozen seconds for all the carnage but that was all it took. The head was still rolling away when I finally got my wits about me."

"And you didn't see anything?"

She had probably heard something in his voice, John realized. Something he was hiding. The doctor had that sharp look in her eyes and he knew she sensed there was more.

Looking around the room again, John warred with himself about whether to say anything. He felt he was entering risky territory. He knew that Manning and others were suspicious about his sudden resurfacing and his amnesia. He had been grilled for months to determine what had happened before they were satisfied he really didn't know anything. Talking about this would open him up for even more of that.

But John was at heart an honest person and he believed in the goodness of people. He was sure Dr. Pine was only trying to help. And he _wanted_ to remember.

"I'm not sure. I . . . I was a little dazed. It was dark and it all happened so fast--"

Seeing his excuses for what they were, Dr. Pine calmly cut in and said, "What did you see?"

". . . something white? Some _one_ maybe? I really don't know. I . . ."

John shrugged. He'd spent all last night trying to recall the glimpse he'd had of whatever had saved him. He had been fairly sure that there had been someone or something else there with him. But the further away he drifted from that moment, the fuzzier everything became. He had been shaky with adrenaline and fear, shocked by the sudden reversal of his situation. Could he really trust what he had seen?

"According to the mission report, there was no evidence of anyone else in the basement with you. Well, nothing but the creature. There was only one exit and none of the other agents saw anything coming or going through the hole the monster made," Dr. Pine said.

"I know what the mission report says." John's tone was tinged with frustration, though whether at the situation or himself, he couldn't say. "But I don't know how else to explain it. I know _I_ didn't kill the monster, and if I didn't, then what did?"

His agitation died down as soon as it grew, leaving him tired. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Dr. Pine watched it all with her sharp eyes, evaluating. Finally, she said, "We work with some very strange things here. I'm not going to tell you what you saw was in your head. But I also cannot tell you that it wasn't."

John's shoulders sagged. She'd guessed what he'd wanted with her usual pinpoint accuracy.

She offered him a sympathetic smile. "You've been under a lot of stress lately."

"We all have," John felt compelled to say.

"We all have," she agreed. "But you more than most. When you were found, management waited only long enough to determine that you were telling the truth about your amnesia before throwing you back onto active duty. They did not wait for you to actually be ready."

"It was needed. The magical world was upended when the Bethmoora Elves lost their royal family. It really looks like a civil war has broken out. We've needed everyone to--"

"I know," Dr. Pine said patiently. "And I agree. There's definitely been a need. The number of incidents with magical beings has quadrupled since the Golden Army was defeated. However, you cannot help anyone if you are not one hundred percent yourself. I think it's clear that you were sent into the field too early."

"But--"

"It's not a punishment, John," Dr. Pine said kindly. "There's still a great deal that you can do here to be useful. I'm not telling you to stop working altogether. But I think we need to give you a little more time to sort out what happened before throwing you into yet another dangerous situation. You were abducted from a mission. It's not surprising that you would be triggered in a similar situation. Sending you back out into the field without knowing what happened is counterproductive."

"But I don't remember anything. I only have the vaguest flashes of images. Dark figures and cold stone. Nothing useful."

"What you have is more than what you had," Dr. Pine reminded him patiently. "I know it doesn't seem like a lot but you are slowly regaining some of what's lost. In time, the pieces will slot together and you will understand what you're seeing. _In time_. It's not going to be forced and it's not going to come in a flash. So, give yourself some time and take a break. We'll revisit the situation during your next session. Alright?"

Sighing, John nodded. He felt guilty for being slightly relieved. But after last night, he honestly wasn't sure what was going on with him and he would never forgive himself if his loss of focus ended up getting one his fellow agents killed.

Dr. Pine smiled. "Alright. I'll see you in a week. Take care, Agent Myers."

 

***

 

_His eyes were barely open and everything was blurry. Lights. He saw lights. Bright and dark, bright and dark, over and over again._

_John was being carried by someone -- someone huge. Maybe more of a something than a someone. It felt like being pressed up against hard sacks of grain and the only way he knew it was alive was the steady movement of its chest as it breathed._

_Voices now. He couldn't tell if it was a language he didn't know or if everything was muddled because the world felt muted to him._

_He was being put down. The stone was cold against his bare skin but he felt far too hot. It was far too bright here._

_Shadows grew up around him in a half circle to one side. He was looking away though. Something had his attention but he couldn't focus. It was yellow like an old wax candle. A circle._

_He knew this. This was familiar. Anticipation made his heart pound but he couldn't move._

_Eyes unblinking he watched the yellow circle. Something was going to happen. Something was happening. He wanted to run. He wanted to throw himself forward. He wanted to hide. He just wanted to_ know _._

_It was happening. He could see something. It was--_

The shrill bleat of the klaxon ripped John from his dream. He bolted upright, momentarily disoriented at the sudden transition from sleep to wakefulness. It took him that extra moment to realize the noise wasn't his alarm clock and then a moment more to realize that the alarm had sounded for all agents to mobilize.

John threw his covers off and raced to get dressed. If a part of him was disappointed to be pulled from his dream when he had seemed so close to finally getting an answer, the immediate worry over what could be going on drowned it out quickly.

John was soon running down the hall towards the staging area where other agents were already gearing up.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, where do you think you're going?"

Skidding to a stop, John turned to find his partner Agent Slate putting extra ammunition in his coat pocket. "The alarm--" John began.

Slate interrupted, "You're off-rotation, doctor's orders. Or did you forget?"

"No, I didn't forget," John said, though he actually had. "I'm still cleared for work. I just came to help you guys deploy."

Agent Slate gave him a knowing look, and John really wished he wasn't so transparent. "Cole is waiting for you in Operations. You can _help_ from there."

It was clearly teasing, and John tried to smile at himself. But it was hard when Slate good-naturedly slapped him on the back and got into the armored truck with the other agents. It felt wrong to just watch while his friends and fellow agents all went off into danger without him there. Logically, he knew his presence wasn't going to be the deciding factor in any one fight. They were all just as well trained as he was. Many were more experienced and better armed. They would be just as fine with as without him.

It still sucked though.

When the last truck began to roll out, John turned and headed towards Operations. It was the Command Center where all communications were handled.

"Hey Cole," John greeted the older agent when he slid into the chair beside him.

Agent Cole handed him a headset. "Stuck in here with me, huh? What'd you do wrong?"

Rolling his eyes, John wordlessly put his headset on.

It was no more than ten minutes before the field agents arrived at the location of the callout. John was soon absorbed listening in as the different teams of agents reported their status and what they were seeing. It wasn't too different to being on-scene himself with people always talking into his ear. Except this time he could only imagine what they were seeing and he didn't have to make reports himself.

"We're entering the south entrance. So far nothing spooky."

"Approaching the main staircase. Visibility is reduced but no sign of anything yet."

"Just heard a noise. Something shrill. Lost it."

"Reporting movement. Something quick. Heading towards the lower level."

"There's that noise again."

"We have it over here too."

"Shit! What are _those_?!"

"Report, Agent. What do you see?

"Some kind of creatures. Never seen them before."

"They're headed down into the basement. Hurry!"

Feeling his insides twist with worry, John nonetheless remained focused and cool-headed as he updated the perimeter guards and made sure nothing had tried to escape the containment area. As much as he wanted to listen to his friends, John had been assigned perimeter watch. It was Cole's job to look after the agents inside.

"Fall back! Fall back!" Agent Slate's voice drew John's attention.

"Slate, report!" Cole said.

"We've landed ourselves in the middle of a battle. Tell management we can confirm the civil war." There was the sound of gunfire but Agent Slate's voice only barely showed the strain of his situation.

"Elaborate," Cole commanded.

John flinched. He didn't know why. Cole was an Operational Agent because he didn't lose his cool. He could be the calm, steady voice in the midst of a hurricane that every agent needed at some point to hold onto when the shit really hit the fan.

"There are Elves and . . . well, I don't know what they are. All sorts of creatures. They're all fighting each other."

Flinching again, John gasped. It felt like someone had just hit him in the chest with a two-by-four.

"The Elves are fighting each other. There's got to be a dozen of them. And the creatures are fighting too. Don't know what's going on exactly but they're clearly not interested in us. Don't much worry if we get in the way though. Fall back! Fall back, everybody. We need to get out of the way!"

A sharp pain near his neck had John reaching up to press his hand there. Another pain sliced through his free arm. And another pain hit him like a blow to the stomach.

"Shit, John!"

Distracted by the multiple blows he was feeling, John hadn't noticed when Cole's attention had turned to him. John felt something warm and wet against his neck. He pulled his hand away for a moment and was surprised to find it covered in blood.

Cole was already in action, grabbing his hand and putting it back on the wound to press there. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped as he looked at John.

Watching Cole's eyes go wide and his face go very pale, John turned towards the glass walls all around them. They were so shiny that he was easily able to see his own face. He could also see the bruise forming on his cheek and the cut slowly opening up in the middle of the bruise. Even as he watched, the cut lengthened and began to bleed but there was nothing there to make the wound.

A moment after he saw the wound, he felt the shallow pain that accompanied it.

Frightened, John turned his attention back to the older agent. Cole shook himself and was once again all-business. He grabbed John's free arm and yanked him to his feet.

"Infirmary. Now!"

 

***

 

"Seriously, what is wrong with me?"

Blowing on his cup of coffee, Slate merely shrugged.

"This is messed up. I'm starting to spontaneously bleed now. What's next?"

"Well," Slate said in a tone that was not helpful at all, "at least the wounds mostly fixed themselves. The bruises cleared up in a day and your cuts are all closed."

"But why was I injured at all?" John asked in frustration.

Perhaps seeing under that to the real worry John was trying not to give into, Slate stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to him, serious.

"Look, no one knows what's going on but we have the best minds we've got on the problem. They'll figure it out. You'll be fine."

"You can't know that. You don't even know what's going on."

Slate shrugged again and continued to walk. "So, talking about it over and over isn't going to do any good. You know, the whole point of going out today was to get your mind off this. You're kind of defeating the purpose here."

Knowing he was right, John sighed. "Sorry." He had left the BPRD to get out of the infirmary and away from all the unanswered questions hounding him. "I know you're probably sick of hearing this."

"Well, I'm getting free coffee so I can't complain," Slate said good-naturedly.

John smiled and followed the other agent down the street towards Slate's favorite diner. Slate was right. John was here to enjoy himself. No one had come up with an answer about what was going on with him yet and harping on it wasn't going to magically change that. The worry was eating away at him. He really needed to get his mind off all the weird stuff that was going on with him.

Slate had volunteered for the job. "So, you given any thought to what you're bringing to Stone's retirement party?"

"I make a pretty mean key lime pie. I thought I'd bring one of those."

"There's going to be dozens of agents. I don't think one pie is going to cut it," Slate noted. They were walking through a quieter part of town and he idly scanned the alleyways as they passed each one.

"Yeah, but everyone's bringing something. So long as Stone gets a try, I figure that's good enough. I can't really be expected to bring enough food for _everybody_ ," John said. He also glanced down each alley. They all looked desolate and empty.

"No one's expecting anyone to bring that much food. But you should definitely bring something a good number of people can try."

"Well, what are you bringing?" John asked.

"Me? I'm going to the store and buying as much dip and chips as they carry."

They could see the diner up ahead now and Slate's focus turned there. He quickened his pace to get out of the cold weather that much sooner.

"Won't pretty much everyone bring chips and dip?" John asked, also quickening his pace. They passed another alley on their way. Slate was looking forward, not expecting trouble. John glanced to his right for an instant.

But when something white caught his attention, he looked again.

He only barely managed to get his hand up in time to deflect the worst of the attack. As it was, the spear still managed to slice his hand and throw John off-balance so that he fell back onto his butt.

"John!"

Staring up wide-eyed, John saw nothing but hate in the golden eyes of the Elf standing over him with a bloody spear. But it lasted only a moment as Slate's gun was up and firing almost immediately. The Elf reacted instantly.

It all happened too fast for John to see clearly. The Elf moved too quickly for any of Slate's shots to hit him. Charging at Slate, the Elf used the staff of his spear to give several precise strikes that knocked Slate off his feet with a finishing move to knock him out.

John fumbled to get his gun out. He only just managed to aim it when the Elf was back and knocking it out of his hands. Still on the ground, there was no way to get away.

He raised his arms in a half-hearted attempt to protect against the spear coming his way. Instinctively he closed his eyes just as the spear was about to skewer him. But instead of pain there was a sharp clanking sound of metal striking metal and the feel of air moving against his skin.

John looked up in time to see a second spear had blocked the one coming at him. His eyes followed the line of the beautiful silver weapon to find another Elf. This Elf was focused on the first Elf, his golden eyes hard. He didn't give John a second look.

He said something in a language John didn't know but clearly had the tone of "back off". The other Elf spat something back and then the two traded a flurry of strikes. Taking the unexpected opportunity, John scrambled away. He didn't see what happened with the fight. His goals were to get his gun and make sure Slate hadn't been killed.

Just as his fingers grazed the metal of his gun, a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him away. Spinning around, John saw that it was the second Elf who had him. The first Elf was nowhere to be seen.

That was all John was able to see before the world shimmered around him. He felt the strangest sensation in his head and he closed his eyes with an instinct of self-preservation. When he opened them again, he staggered back.

The view of the outside city street had changed to the walls of a small room. John's eyes roved over it quickly, noting it appeared to be a bedroom. There was nothing human about it though.

"Where--"

"I have no time for this. You will stay here," the Elf said, letting John go. John noted that the hand that had been holding him was covered in a pale sap-colored liquid. He realized that the Elf’s hand was bleeding.

Seeing the Elf head to the only door, John started. "Wait--"

"Food will be brought to you. Everything you need is here," the Elf continued briskly.

"Where is here? What's going on? Who are you?" John asked quickly, following the Elf.

At the threshold of the door, the Elf stopped. He finally turned to John and seemed to _see_ him for the first time.

"I am Nuada, Prince of the Bethmoora Elves."

Recognizing the name from the mission briefs he had read, John froze in shock.

"You will stay here," Nuada repeated, and then the door shut with a bang, leaving John alone.

 

***

 

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

Sighing, John slumped against the locked door. He'd been calling on and off for hours but there didn't seem to be any signs of life beyond his room.

Turning to rest his back against the door, John surveyed the room he'd been left in one more time. He'd spent the first few hour of his captivity going over every nook and cranny of the place. It was plain but comfortable. The walls were bare except for a small mirror hanging over a small stand where a large basin and two pitchers of water were laid. There was an identical stand on the opposite wall where food had magically appeared twice since he’d been there. Just as suddenly as it appeared, it disappeared after John had eaten it. Each time the food came or went, John was looking elsewhere and he couldn't be sure if it came by Elf-magic or some mechanical conveyance he had yet to discover.

The only other features of the room were a bed and a small alcove with the bare bones of a washroom. Other than that, there was nothing in the room worth noting. There certainly were no exits.

Sighing again, John moved away from the door and sank onto the bed. He had no escape and no one around to answer his questions.

And he had dozens of questions.

Falling back, he locked his hands behind his head and looked up at the barren ceiling. Clearly he was on his own if he wanted answers. John calmed his mind and tried to make sense of what was going on. He started with what he knew.

It was clear that there was a civil war going on among the magical beings. There had been ample evidence of that piling up over the last few months as the BPRD headed to the aftermath of one fight scene after another. The fight he'd just witnessed between Nuada and another Elf just seemed like the final confirmation. John had looked at enough mission briefs lately about Elves to know that they did _not_ fight each other. That they were fighting each other now was astonishing. Elves were the leaders of the magical world. If they were at war, then all magical things were.

The idea was chilling.

That didn't in any way explain John's current predicament however. John strained his memory to recall everything he could about the Golden Army incident. He knew that an Elf named Nuada had been behind the thwarted apocalypse. He knew that Elf was one of the royal family. His name had come up several times over the last few months as the BPRD struggled to get a handle on the growing civil war and keep it from spilling out into the public. John also knew that Nuada was quite dead, along with his father and sister, and others were racing to fill the resulting power-vacuum, which was most likely the root of the conflict.

Or at least that was what the BPRD had surmised. But now it looked like they might be wrong on that score. The Elf he'd just met said he was Prince Nuada and John had no reason to doubt him. He couldn't quite remember what Nuada was supposed to look like beyond the general golden eyes, white skin and white hair that signified his race. That wasn't a lot of help when John was dealing with more than one Elf.

John had seen surveillance photos of Nuada from when he'd infiltrated the BPRD but none of them had been very helpful and the details weren't coming to him now. The details of Nuada's death were sketchy too, and now John was wishing he had been there with Hellboy and the others to see what had actually happened. At least then he could judge what was going on now.

Nuada was supposed to be dead but was it possible he had somehow survived? Or was Nuada a common name and the Elf he'd met wasn't the same Elf at all? Perhaps he was just one of the many vying to fill the power-vacuum and had claimed the royal title in hubris.

Shifting his head slightly sent a small stab of pain down his arm. He unclasped his hands and looked at the one causing him pain -- the one that had been scratched by the unnamed Elf during the fight. It had been a decent wound and bled freely for a while but now it looked like a cut that had been healing for weeks and was well on its way to fading completely.

That reminded John of something.

Sitting up, he remembered the wound he'd seen on Nuada's hand. It had been in the same place as John's. He suddenly remembered how exactly Nuada had died. He remembered the strange connection between Nuada and his twin sister and how it had prevented Hellboy from really fighting the Elf while he'd been in the BPRD. He remembered that in the end the only reason Nuada was dead was because Nuala had killed herself.

And now John had a wound on his hand in the same place as Nuada's. His spontaneous injuries had occurred when there had been a fight between magical beings. Slate had confirmed the presence of Elves at the fight. What if Nuada had been at that fight too? What if he'd been injured? Was that where John's wounds had come from?

John's head spun at the implications. It was further evidence that the Nuada he'd just met was _the_ Nuada but it still left much unanswered. How on earth could Nuada become connected to a human? And why was it John?

Still . . .

None of it made any kind of sense, but an idea began to take shape in John's head. Perhaps he wasn't quite so cut off from everyone as he thought.

Getting up and walking over to his latest meal, he grabbed the knife from the plate. John felt the weight of it in his hand. It was heavy and beautifully ornate. It wasn't a common dinner knife, though it had clearly been provided for that purpose. But what concerned John now was that it was very sharp.

He sat back on the bed and considered this idea. There was a strong part of him that just couldn't believe the wild theory he'd concocted was true. The most likely explanation was that he and Nuada had both been injured by the aggressive Elf and it was just coincidence that the wounds were in the same spot. John hadn't actually seen much of their fight so he couldn't be sure that wasn't the case.

He had been grasping at straws ever since his kidnapping and mysterious return. The theory rattling around in his head seemed to explain everything but John knew very well that Elves did not like humans. Nuada had threatened genocide on his race. The idea that he and the prince could be connected went against everything John knew of the situation.

More immediately, there was absolutely no one around and it didn't seem likely anyone was coming any time soon. If John injured himself too badly, there was no one to find him.

But he couldn't just sit here any longer. He had to find out what was going on and why he was here.

It was very hot in the room and he'd stripped off his jacket and sweater soon after Nuada had left. He figured that if nothing happened, he could rip up the sweater and use it to bind whatever wound he made.

Rolling up the sleeve of his left arm, he considered how he wanted to do this. Elves were clearly much tougher than humans. A small little cut wasn't going to attract Nuada's attention. It had to be something serious for Nuada to come back to the cell. But John also didn't want to seriously injure himself or put himself in any real danger.

He decided to cut on the side of his arm and to make the cut irregular so that it didn't look like something done by accident. Not at all used to the idea of hurting himself, it took him a moment to work up the resolve to make the first slice. It was shallow and not too painful; he knew it wasn't enough. Biting his lip, he pressed until it hurt considerably more and then began a meandering line towards his elbow.

He was mindful not to press so deep that he cut into muscle. It just had to be painful, which it certainly was.

The whole thing was over almost immediately and then he just sat there with a bleeding arm. Long seconds ticked by and he began to feel very foolish. Just as he was about to reach for his discarded sweater and bandage up the wound, the door burst open.

John jumped at the sudden noise and looked up to find Nuada framed in the doorway. A lethal curved dagger was in one hand and he looked ready to kill an attacker as his eyes swept the room in search of the danger. But John's eyes zeroed in on Nuada's left arm and again saw the sap-colored liquid seeping into his pale sleeve. It was the exact length of the injury John has just inflicted upon himself.

John still wasn't sure he believed the evidence he was seeing. As he struggled with that, Nuada finished his visual sweep of the room and finally noted the bloody knife still in John's hand.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Apparently, I'm getting your attention." John really hoped that he sounded at least a little bit confident.

Eyes darkening dangerously, Nuada was clearly not amused. He did not relax the arm holding the dagger. Indeed, he looked very tempted to turn the weapon on John.

But he did not allow such a slip in his self-control. Predator-like, he stalked forward to grab the knife out of John's hand. John didn't really resist but he did twist his hold on the knife just enough to cut Nuada's hand -- just enough to check for certain that they were connected. When Nuada yanked the knife away, he didn't seem bothered in the least by the tiny cut. But John stared wide-eyed as an identical cut appeared on his own hand.

It really was true.

He only had a moment to wonder about it though. Nuada turned to leave and John knew he only had this one chance. Scrambling to his feet, he quickly blurted out, "I'll just do it again."

Nuada paused before slowly turning back to look at John. The look in his eyes could freeze blood. John knew he was on very thin ice here but that did not make him back down.

Wary but determined, he said, "You can take the knife away but I'll just find something else to use. I've got _nothing_ else to do but find ways to hurt myself since I can see it will distract you. If you don't tell me what's going on -- if you don't give me a reason not to -- then I'm just going to keep doing this. I need to know what's going on. I will _not_ be shut in here."

Nuada did not outwardly react to John's little speech. His alien eyes were stony and so cold, and it was hard to bear up under such an unfriendly regard. John didn't bend though. He forced himself to stand straight and meet Nuada's eyes, hoping he was telegraphing his firm resolve.

Their standoff dragged on. With each crawling second, John felt like a weight had grabbed his stomach and was slowly pulling it towards his feet. He tried not to think about the mission statements he'd read about Nuada and just how dangerous this Elf was. He tried not to think about just how much this Elf hated humans and what he'd been prepared to do to all humankind.

Finally Nuada's eyes narrowed dangerously. But he took a step back, back through the doorway, and gave room for John to pass. Not wanting to miss this opportunity, John quickly exited without pausing to grab his coat or sweater.

No word was spoken. Nuada quickly strode down the long corridor and John had to almost jog to keep up.

Nuada said nothing and John dared not speak either. The Elf took him through a winding series of corridors and then up several flights of stairs. It was a while before John started to see other creatures. There were a few Elves, who watched his passing with calm, alien regard. A few magical creatures also lingered in the shadows. Some were busy at work with what looked like housekeeping tasks, some appeared to be guards, and there was one notable creature with a tower for a head and a stack of papers that made John think it was a scribe.

John was given no real time to study any of them. Nuada navigated the winding halls with ease and everyone parted before him. In what seemed like no time at all, they approached a large metal door. It looked like an old bank vault door from the Wild West that the Elves had repurposed. Despite its large size, it opened as if it weighed no more than a penny.

The rooms beyond were colorful. Nuada led John down a very short hall, and at first all John could see were plants and natural light. It looked for a moment like he was being led into a greenhouse. But that was misleading. A skylight high above the large parlor let in light. Tinted glass set in designs above the doors and hanging crystals threw a rainbow of colors onto the white walls and gold-embellished floor. Potted plants lined several walls and hanging plants hid the columns and walls holding the room up.

It was very beautiful -- but as soon as John took the step up into the parlor, he stopped short.

Across from him was a large creature. A golden collar looped slackly around its neck and a golden chain lay loose at its feet and disappeared into the wall. John had no idea what kind of animal it was. He'd never seen its like in any of the informational briefs he'd studied for his work.

The beast was a cross between a wolf and lion . . . and something more. Its coat was white save for several golden tufts along its body. Its back feet were normal paws but its front feet were scaly and clawed. The scaly skin extended up to the creature's chest and belly. A very long tail curled around its feet and John saw knots tied into the slim tail. A long bluish tongue hung from one side of the beast's mouth.

Its eyes were as golden as an Elf's and its attention was immediately caught by John's presence. It stared challengingly at John, head and body dipping slightly like a cat about to crouch down to stalk its prey.

"What is that?" It took a supreme effort to tear his eyes away to look at Nuada. The Elf was watching his reaction to the beast and from his expression John gathered that he wasn't making a particularly good impression.

Voice chilly, Nuada said, "It is an Alphyn. It is the last of its kind."

The creature bared its teeth in a menacing growl, its long tail lashing out like a whip about it. John's sense of self-preservation was kicking in hard and he wanted very much to back away. There was something terrible about the beast -- something that had nothing to do with its deadly claws and monstrous teeth.

But John needed answers. It wasn't just curiosity that was driving him. There was something going on with him, something big. He needed to know what it was. He didn't know why but he knew it was important. He knew something had changed. He felt it deep inside himself. With every passing moment in Nuada's presence, he felt it grow stronger and stronger.

He couldn't leave but he also couldn't make himself go forward either. He was effectively paralyzed.

Perhaps sensing his dilemma, Nuada very politely mocked, "Please, make yourself comfortable. I was in the middle of something when you _called_ me. It must be settled before I can pander to you. I will return as soon as the matter is concluded."

He did not wait for John's reaction. John barely had time to open his mouth to protest before Nuada swept out of the room through a different doorway, leaving John alone with the menacing creature.

Not daring to take his eyes off it, John internally fumed at Nuada's behavior. Of course his irritation was at war with his fear for his personal safety but it left a nice little dent in his unease to help him climb out of the feeling.

Watching the beast eye him like a nice juicy dinner, John quickly reminded himself that he was connected to Nuada. He wouldn't leave John to be killed by some magical beast if only because that would end up hurting the Elf. Surely that was more trouble than it was worth to Nuada.

John wished that felt more comforting to him than it actually was. He supposed that had to do with how little he trusted Nuada. For all he knew, Nuada's hatred was so great that he would gladly let himself be killed if it meant the very human John died too.

Time passed slowly, and John relaxed a little. The creature did not lunge at him. It hissed and took a step forward when he tried moving a step back but otherwise remained where it was.

Eventually John became irritated with himself. The beast was clearly restrained. John had no idea how long the chain was but it surely was enough to keep it contained. Nuada was probably having a good laugh somewhere at John's reaction. John wondered if this was Nuada's way of ducking John's ultimatum. He would just leave John with a creature that paralyzed John with fear so that John couldn't be a bother.

Well -- screw that.

John took a deep breath and forced himself to look around the rest of the parlor. It was octagonal in shape with four doorways. Beyond one doorway he could see what looked like an office. Another doorway seemed to lead to a bedroom. The doorway Nuada had disappeared through remained shadowed and out of John's immediate view.

Still feeling the stare of the creature, John noticed the parlor was completely empty except for an elegant dining table and set of chairs opposite where the Alphyn was. It was right beside the exit Nuada had used. John decided that if Nuada were speaking the truth, the dining table would be an excellent place to have a conversation about what was going on. And if Nuada had lied and had no intention of returning, than John would be that much closer to following him and giving him a piece of his mind.

Slowly sliding one foot in the table's direction, the Alphyn responded with a terrifying growl. John momentarily froze and glanced at the beast. It was again crouched down and looked ready to pounce. When the Alphyn looked at him, there was something ancient and dangerous in its eyes. But John began to think that it wasn't necessarily directed at him.

It wasn't courage that made John take a step towards the beast. The Alphyn hissed at him. It caused John to hesitate -- but only for a moment. Feeling that it was very important that he resolve this situation, John took one determined step after another until he was within touching distance of the beast.

The Alphyn stood up to its full height. All the tufts of hair on its body were bristled defensively and it crouched back against the wall.

"Don't be afraid," John said. "I'm not going to . . . I don't want anything."

The warning growl grew louder and the Alphyn's tail began to swish in agitation. Swallowing nervously, John very slowly reached out his hand. The Alphyn moved its head back but it made no other attempt to evade John's touch. Gingerly, John's fingers brushed the beast's nose. The Alphyn flinched at the first touch and John kept himself still. He let the beast smell his hand before he again tried to touch it.

The Alphyn's fur was slightly rough. John scratched gently along its snout and offered a nervous smile. "See? I'm okay."

Making an unimpressed noise, the Alphyn gave him a dubious look. That was still much better than the predatory look John had been getting so far. Feeling a little more confident, John took one step closer and let his hand move so he could scratch between the Alphyn's ears. It seemed to like that.

Eventually the Alphyn sat its hindquarters down and John felt he'd made real progress. He was so engrossed in earning the creature's trust that it took him a few minutes before he realized they were no longer alone. Turning his head, he saw Nuada standing by the dining table. His arms were crossed and he was regarding John and the Alphyn with an unreadable expression.

It didn't seem quite as unfriendly as it had before but John suddenly felt self-conscious and quickly withdrew his hands from the Alphyn's fur.

"Um, everything wrapped up?" he asked awkwardly.

Just as he had back in the cell, Nuada regarded John for an uncomfortably long moment. John didn't know why he stood silent. Something felt off, though he couldn't place it. With Nuada looking at him like that, the niggling feeling only grew.

"Please, sit," Nuada finally said, gesturing towards the dining table. Rather than the mocking tone of before, his voice was completely neutral now.

It made John wary but nonetheless he walked to the chair Nuada pulled out for him. John glanced behind once to see the Alphyn settle down on the floor, head on its forelegs as it watched them.

When he turned his head back, he again found himself the subject of Nuada's scrutiny. The Elf's eyes were guarded and watchful now, and John had to wonder what had happened to the haughty annoyance of before. Clearing his throat, John said, "So, are you going to tell me what's going on now?"

There was only a moment's hesitation before Nuada replied, and John noted how his eyes flickered toward the Alphyn. "You are aware of the conflict going on among my people, are you not?"

"Well, we've been called up to a lot more disturbances than usual. My bosses thought it had to do with the power-vacuum left in the wake of your death but since you're not dead . . . well, I guess I don't know what's going on."

Nuada pursed his lips. "Your people are not incorrect. After my death, my people were left without a leader. Many vied for the position. Some simply desired to live on their own but some desired the power of complete control. The Elves rose up above the other creatures, as is our right. But there was dispute among the many Houses as to who would lead us. No compromise could be reached. Open combat ensued. It appeared that our people would be destroyed by our own hand. I suppose it pleases you to know that."

"Why would that please me?" John demanded, halfway between offended and surprised.

Nuada regarded him again with hostile, narrowed eyes. "You would deny that it doesn't give you pleasure to see the Elves behaving in the same petty fashion as humans? To see that we have sunk to your level? Your kind has ever sought the extinction of mine, and we have withstood your onslaughts since the time of Aiglin the Father Tree. And now we are doing your work for you. Of course you would be pleased."

"Hey, I don't know what kind of idea is twisting your worldview but I've never wished harm on Elves, and no one I know does either. Sure, you're irritating the hell out of the BPRD but no one's breathed a word about doing away with you or the other magical creatures. That's _your_ playbook. _You're_ the one who tried to annihilate _us_."

Nuada snorted in derision. "So, you would claim blamelessness because the manner of death you offer us is not the violent, quick end I offered you. No, your kind slowly squeezes us into tiny spaces and hidden regions devoid of light and fresh air where we slowly suffocate and fade away. Your swords are not tainted with our blood but you are responsible for our diminishment and extinction all the same."

"Whatever our contribution, you are no less to blame," John shot back. Nuada's talk reminded him of something he'd read in a mission briefing. "If you hadn't created the Golden Army, you could still dwell in Bethmoora."

Anger flashed in Nuada's eyes. "The only curse upon our kingdom is that we did not eradicate your race when we had the chance. Do you think that because your kind now deals death in inches that you are not a bloodthirsty race? I am happy to disabuse you of that notion. Aiglin drowned and withered in the blood that your people spilled from magical veins. There was no choice but to make the Golden Army. Only wholesale slaughter could answer your carnage. It is the taint of _your_ race's sins that lies upon the Golden Army."

His claims seemed outlandish to John, whose defensive anger faded to a faint pity. He shook his head. "I don't claim that humanity can't be savage; I know we can be. But all that happened a long time ago. It's clear you've held onto a grudge this whole time and do not see what humans are _now_."

"And you think you have improved? You are now above such brutality?" Nuada said derisively.

John scowled. "I just said we haven't. But that doesn't mean we're the same as before. If you can’t see what's right before you, how can you judge the situation fairly? How can you see clearly?"

Slamming his hands onto the table, Nuada shot to his feet. It made John flinch. "Why should I be _fair_ to your kind? You could not count the number of my kinsmen who were lost before the Golden Army was made. There were races of such beauty and magnificence that will never grace this Earth again. They were crushed under the boots of human armies. How can _you_ judge _fairly_? You weren't there. You didn't see the fields of blood and the mounds of the dead that were erected."

"You're right," John interjected. "I _wasn't_ there. I _am_ sorry that it happened. I wish it hadn't. If I could undo it, I would. But I cannot change the past. And yes, it's _unfair_ that you will hold me accountable for actions of ancestors I have no memory or direct connection to. How can I answer for something that happened so long ago? I don't know what the humans back then were thinking or why they did what they did. The only perspective that remains is _your_ perspective, and by that I am damned without any possible explanation."

"And what other explanation could there be? Perhaps you are not to blame for what happened then, but the actions of your ancestors revealed the innate nature of humanity. Your kind marched upon mine and butchered us indiscriminately. Nothing less than extermination was desired. Why shouldn't I respond in kind now?"

"I can't believe that," John said quietly. This conversation seemed so surreal to him. He had been watching Nuada's growing anger with alarm, afraid for his own safety. Nuada looked like he was a moment away from pulling his sword and beheading John. He might not even mean to do it. But he was so proficient and quick; it would only take a moment's loss of control and John would be dead. This conversation was clearly agitating Nuada.

But even as Nuada's flashing anger snapped in the air, John began to feel something else. The anger was so strong that it almost seemed like John could _feel_ it inside him. For a time it masked all else. But John was looking into Nuada's eyes. He saw the flash of pain there when he spoke of kinsmen lost. And it seemed to John that he felt that pain in his own heart. A well of hurt and fear with a hard wall of righteousness to hide it away.

Gently, John said, "I don't think my ancestors wanted to completely exterminate your kind." He glanced around at the room they were in, noting the decorative flourishes around the stained glass and the Alphyn still watching them intensely. Looking back, he met Nuada's eyes. "If my ancestors were anything like me, they wouldn't want to destroy something so beautiful. Elves are beautiful. The things you make are wonderful and magical. Sometimes that can be intimidating. I could believe ancient humans were insecure and intimidated when they compared themselves to you. Sometimes people lash out when they feel like that. I don't know if that's what happened. I wasn't there. But if ancient humans couldn't see your beauty and I can, well then maybe it is worth reevaluating humanity. Maybe things _have_ changed. Or maybe things weren't as straightforward as you thought. I don't know. Isn't it worth at least considering? Or do you really want to go to war?"

John wasn't exactly sure what he was trying to say. And he wasn't sure how Nuada took his words. The anger leached away as Nuada looked at him. That strange expression Nuada had worn when he'd returned to find John and the Alphyn together again graced the Elf's face. John couldn't exactly read it. But in his heart, he began to feel that strange feeling again -- that something had changed within him. And yet it didn't feel like _he_ had been changed. It felt like he'd been opened up and was only now beginning to see clearly for the first time. It was small and faint but growing.

Suddenly, Nuada turned away. John blinked and felt a little like a balloon slowly growing inside him had been abruptly popped. He was left unsettled and confused. But that all seemed secondary. He looked at Nuada's broad back and could see the tension there. He wondered what the Elf was thinking.

What he was feeling.

Across the room, the Alphyn made a small noise. It distracted John, who looked over to see the creature had raised its head as it continued to look at them. When it met John's eyes, it repeated the small noise but then laid its head back on its leg. John had no idea what it meant but gave it no thought because his attention was again caught by Nuada.

Turning back, Nuada looked again composed and detached. He gracefully sat back down opposite John.

"It is the present that concerns us now." His tone was again perfectly neutral. "As I said, many factions of Elves sought to claim leadership over all magical creatures. The situation had become disastrous. The priests and priestesses of the Gods foresaw that if nothing was done, our people would destroy themselves. So, they brought me back to life as I am the only one whose claim to the Kingship cannot be disputed."

"Wait, just like that?" John interrupted. "They can just bring you back?"

Nuada pursed his lips again. For the first time, he looked faintly uneasy. "No, not 'just like that'. But they did bring me back and I claimed my right to rule. Many factions immediately returned to me and I was quickly able to subdue others. I have been steadily chipping away at a few who would not yield. There is now only one left: Baoth. He leads the only remaining resistance to my rule. It was he who attacked you."

"Why? What does this have to do with me? Is it because I'm connected to you like your sister was?"

"You are _not_ bound to me like my sister," Nuada snapped. The ferocity of it startled John. Perhaps seeing his confusion, Nuada's anger immediately softened. "Our . . . our bond is not familial," he said quietly and he didn't quite meet John's eyes when he said it.

His hesitation only lasted a moment more though. Shaking himself, he threw off whatever was in his head and said, "But, yes, that is why Baoth attacked you. You and I are bound together. He has found it difficult to strike me directly. You are much less protected so he went after you to get to me."

John needed a moment to digest this news. He had no idea what to think and he struggled to make some kind of sense of his feelings. After a long minute, he tentatively asked, "B-but what happened to make us connected?"

This apparently was not a good question to ask Nuada. John could see an icy wall slam up around the Elf. Nuada's jaw clenched and he turned away to hide the emotion in his eyes. John watched him warily, feeling like he'd just stepped out onto very thin ice. Not daring to provoke the Elf when he was in such a mood, John waited for Nuada to react.

But Nuada did not again descend into anger. After a moment, he turned back and appeared outwardly calm. John noted that Nuada still didn't meet his eyes though. "We have always been connected. Or, at least, that is what the Sages tell me. My sister and father died by the breaking of their bodies. But I died by the severing of my bond to my sister. I 'died' because I was bound to my sister and my soul followed after hers. However, there was nothing wrong with my body. For this reason, the Sages knew I could be brought back. They reconstructed the shattered pieces my body had fallen into and called my soul back to life. But, I cannot live without a bond to ground me. The Sages consulted the Gods to determine whom I should be bound to and you were chosen."

"Me? Why me?" John asked.

Nuada continued to look vaguely uncomfortable. "It could only be you. Even the Elves cannot create a bond out of nothing. When the Sages sought the wisdom of the Gods, they learned that another bond already existed between me and another. All that was left was to discover the identity and then retrieve you."

"Wait, is that what happened? It was the Elves who took me?" Not expecting to learn about his abduction so many months ago, John didn't know what to think about this revelation. And yet, when Nuada nodded, John felt something familiar tugging at the back of his brain.

Before he could figure it out, Nuada said, "Close proximity was necessary to ensure the magical rites had the ultimate chance of success. I returned you to your people as soon as I had adjusted to living again."

"But how come--"

Perhaps anticipating John's question, Nuada quickly spoke over him. "When you . . . _called_ me, I was in the middle of planning a final assault against Baoth and his followers. Over the past few months, I have been able to erode his forces. I feel confident that I shall be able to wipe out his resistance with one final stroke. Baoth knows his vulnerability. That is why he chose to attack you and it is why I have brought you here. You and I are connected."

Nuada tilted his head to the side to reveal his neck where John could see a scar that looked newer than the other ones covering the Elf's face. Unconsciously John's hand went to his own neck. The scar there was much fainter on him but he could still feel it. It was the wound he'd received while with Agent Cole.

"Our bond has manifested physically. I am shortly to depart with my warriors to deal Baoth a finishing blow. This is a crucial moment and the outcome will decide the fate of all magical creatures. I cannot afford to be distracted in any way. So, I am _asking_ you to _please_ stay here. Everything should be concluded shortly and then you will be returned to your people."

"Or I'll be dead," John noted shrewdly. If Nuada lost, John would die when Nuada did. Nuada had stood in clear preparation to leave and now John jumped to his feet too. "I could help."

To his credit, Nuada did not simply dismiss John's offer. Instead, he said, "There isn't time to inform you of all that you would need to know to participate. Besides, one extra sword would make no difference."

"I didn't mean just me. I could contact the BPRD. We have an interest in seeing the civil war settled."

Nuada breathed in through his nose the way people did whose patience was being tested. Again, he refrained from openly scoffing. "If I were to accept the aid of humans, it would make my victory meaningless in the eyes of my people. I must win this challenge on my own for peace to be lasting."

John opened his mouth to protest again but Nuada reached out to grab his shoulder and spoke before John could. "I appreciate your willingness to help but the best thing you can do to aid me is to remain right here where you are safe. These are my rooms and no one will disturb you here."

He firmly squeezed John's shoulder. "Now, I must go. Do I have your promise that you will keep yourself out of trouble?"

It felt so very wrong to just sit meekly on the sidelines but John could see that Nuada would not be persuaded. Unhappy, John nonetheless nodded.

Nuada gave John's shoulder another firm squeeze before turning away. John swore that the touch lingered for a moment but he wasn't quite sure. He was too distracted to give it much thought as he watched the Elf disappear through the exit he'd taken earlier, leaving John alone with the Alphyn once more.

 

***

 

_A troll-like creature carried John down a long corridor and into a large circular room. Just off the center of the room was a large stone altar, and the troll set John on this. Naked and woozy, John could do nothing but turn his head and watch as a group of robed figures formed a circle around the room._

_Three robed figures stepped forward but not towards John, and he became aware of a shallow well besides the altar. It was filled with a milk-white liquid, thick like cream or paint. Two of the robed figures carried a large wooden casket between them. From this, the third figure drew large chunks of yellowed material. Piece by piece, the yellowed chunks were gently dropped into the milky liquid. They seemed to dissolve like sugar in water, creating swirls of color that slowly dispersed into the liquid and turned it the color of ancient parchment._

_All around John, the robed figures began to chant. The musical quality of their chanting made John sleepy and for a few minutes he struggled to keep his eyes open. But while his mind was sluggish, his heart was beginning to beat faster. A strange feeling was bubbling up inside him. The world began to slip away so that he did not see the robed figures with their pale hands. He did not hear their words._

_His focus settled on the shallow well beside the altar. Though it appeared at first to be static, when John looked closer he could see the yellowed liquid was beginning to move in a circle -- slowly at first but with increasing momentum as John's heart began to beat faster._

_He could feel it more strongly now. Another heartbeat pulsed beside his own, and he realized as it was pulled out-of-sync from its natural pace that it had always been with him. Now, it felt like there were two hearts inside his chest and they were at war over his body. The dissonance was making it hard for John to breathe. He felt like he was racing towards a heart attack._

_In the well, the yellowed liquid was beginning to coalesce into the center. Faster and faster it whirled. The half-heard chanting around him grew in tempo, and John didn't know how he was going to bear it._

_Anticipation churned in his stomach. He felt like he had been waiting for this his whole life. He felt like waiting another thousand years wouldn't be nearly enough time to prepare himself. Waiting another moment was agony._

_But it was happening. He could feel it. The heartbeats at war inside him mimicked another war, another connection. John knew it as he knew his own face. It was familiar but alien -- a part of him yet something separate -- and he knew how it would end. He could feel the push-pull, the irregular rhythms growing closer and closer to each other until they would become indistinguishable again._

_Until they beat as one._

_The yellowed circle in the milk-white liquid had condensed so tightly that it appeared for a moment like a candle about to be pulled from the surrounding wax and hung to dry. A moment later, it was completely subsumed and there was nothing but chalky white left._

_Inside, the beat of his hearts was reaching a crescendo. Unable to move, John was helpless to the sensations battering his body. It felt like something was inexorably carving a path into the deepest part of him, trying to reach that part of him he'd only vaguely known was there._

_It all finished in a burst of movement and pain. Before him, a fully formed figure of a man rose up from the shallow well. He was completely covered in the thick white liquid that plastered against the hard contours of his muscles._

_John could_ feel _the parts of himself knitting back together. But it wasn't_ him _. It was the other heartbeat. It was the figure before him. John was connected. He felt the cracks being filled in. He felt the first rush of blood begin to flow through still forming veins. The first breath filling empty lungs._

_John gasped, overwhelmed. He was possessed with the intense desire to reach out and touch the perfect figure before him. But he was paralyzed and could only watch as the other half of himself -- a half forever unacknowledged and kept at a distance -- remained achingly out-of-reach._

_Then golden eyes opened and turned to look at him. He was stretched out naked and vulnerable but it didn't matter. His focus remained on those alien eyes that had haunted the deepest of his dreams. For a moment, he could see everything. He could_ feel _everything. There was no barrier and nothing was hidden._

_For a moment, it was perfect._

_But then the golden eyes hardened. The union was yanked apart with the finality of a door slamming shut._

_John felt something break inside him, and the force of it knocked him out._

 

***

 

The completed memory of Nuada's rebirth followed John into the waking world. For a minute John remained still, ignorant of what had woken him. But, slowly, he became aware of the feel of eyes upon him.

Cautiously he turned until he could see that Nuada was sitting on the edge of the bed -- sitting within touching distance.

Instantly on alert, John was only too aware of the image he presented. He'd stripped to his underwear because of the unbearable heat. He lay practically naked in what had to be Nuada's own bed.

Nuada did not seem offended. John wasn't sure what he was. His expression was once again that inscrutable one he'd worn while John had been with the Alphyn. It had a piercing quality to it, as if Nuada didn't notice John's bare chest at all -- not when he could look straight into John's soul instead.

Feeling awkward but not knowing what to do or say when Nuada was looking at him like that and sitting as still as a statue, John was absurdly grateful when the Alphyn lying beside the bed made a noise that distracted the Elf.

John had spent the hours before going to bed trying to earn the creature's trust. He'd come to the conclusion that an Alphyn was not a warm, cuddly type of beast. It was never going to 'like' him. But he felt they'd reached an understanding so that when the Alphyn had followed him into Nuada's bedroom, John hadn't felt nervous sleeping so close to the creature.

Indeed, he felt safer having it nearby.

Now, the Alphyn lifted its head and looked at Nuada. They seemed to share some silent communication before the Alphyn made another soft noise and set its head back on its forelimbs, apparently disinterested in them.

But it seemed whatever was communicated was a great matter to Nuada. John could see that his distant expression grew unsettled and uncertain.

"What is it?" John asked before he could think better of it.

Gaze dragged towards John, Nuada looked distracted as he calmly said, "You have the Alphyn's favor."

His tone was again carefully neutral and yet John felt like this was a monumental thing to Nuada. Confused, he hesitantly asked, "And?"

Finally Nuada's focus returned completely to John. There was still something distracted in his alien eyes but John was beginning to feel like he was at the center of that distraction. It didn't seem like a comfortable place to be.

"Alphyns are judges," Nuada explained patiently. "That is the core of their being. This one judges you favorably."

"And you thought I would be found wanting?" John could see where this was going now. Or he thought he could at least. He wasn't particularly offended or upset. He couldn't say he completely understood why the Alphyn's opinion mattered to Nuada but if the Alphyn was going to give him a good word, John would take it.

John was prepared for another argument about the deficiencies of humans so he was surprised at the reaction his words caused. Rather than grow prickly again, that piercing gaze John had woken to came back.

Almost as if his hand had a will of its own, Nuada reached out to John and laid it on John's chest, right over his heart. Nuada's skin felt cool against John's heated skin. John shivered but waited, not sure what was going on but not feeling brave enough to interrupt it.

Time crawled forward and John did his best to endure it quietly. He felt like something important was going on -- that this was something Nuada needed to face. John had no idea what was going on in Nuada's head or what was happening but he felt strongly that this was a pivotal moment.

That strange feeling came back. Like warmed honey, it began to slowly flood through him. He felt it strongest where Nuada touched him but it was everywhere else too. It pushed away loneliness John had not been aware of, loneliness that might not even be his. It wrapped around every part of him so that there was no way to rip it away without yanking out all that John was right along with it.

"There is no hole in your heart," Nuada murmured. Wonder and disbelief colored his tone. When he finally tore his eyes away from where his hand touched John's bare chest, the look in his eyes was equally astonished.

And a little frightened.

John only saw it for a moment before Nuada's steely self-control exerted itself. He withdrew his hand as if he'd been burned and a wall of ice slammed up over his expressive eyes.

"What do you desire?" Nuada demanded suddenly, voice cold.

"Huh?" Startled by the abrupt change and confused by the question, John felt lost.

Leaning a little closer in a gesture that was just shy of menacing, Nuada's tone was again halfway mocking in its polite iciness as he said, "What do you want? What would you ask to get if you could ask for anything? What would make you happy, John Myers?"

John leaned back as much as Nuada leaned forward. He felt his own defenses rising. This conversation suddenly felt very unsafe.

Still, he gave the question some honest consideration. "I don't know. I want lots of things I guess."

"But what exactly?" Nuada pressed. His hand reached out to again touch John. This time his fingers grazed along John's bare arm. It was a flirtatious gesture, completely at odds with the hard look in Nuada's eyes. "What do you need to feel complete?"

Skin prickling under the feel of Nuada's fingers trailing along his skin, John frowned. "I . . . Complete? I don't know. I feel pretty complete."

This answer was apparently a terrible one. Nuada snatched his hand away and snapped to his feet. "There _must_ be something. Do you not want riches? A home of your own? A position of authority in your employment? A mate to spend your life with?"

Watching Nuada's agitated gesticulation as he ticked off his questions, John said, "I guess those are nice but . . . I can't say I'm _incomplete_ without them. I have enough money. If I had my own place, I'd just have to do more cleaning. Being a Manager means more paperwork so . . ."

John shrugged. There were things he'd like to get but nothing he couldn't live without either. He had a sense that was what Nuada was going after.

Finally stopping his pacing, Nuada just stood for a minute and looked at John. It wasn't a look he'd given John before. There was a slight frown but not one John would label as angry or confused or surprised. He wasn't sure how to describe Nuada's expression.

He felt Nuada's stare to his core though. To be the focus of that otherworldly intensity was unnerving but a little exciting too. It was easier to bear up under it this time, now that Nuada was no longer radiating hostility. There was a tickle at the back of John's brain as he looked at Nuada. It was almost as if he could feel Nuada's uncertainty.

Hesitating just barely enough to be noticed, Nuada again approached. One knee hitting the bed, he did not stop propelling himself forward and John actually had to lie back as Nuada hovered over him.

Nuada's expression was guarded now as he studied John up close. "And what about a mate? Do you not desire one?" Nuada said quietly.

Feeling awkward and trapped but also strangely safe as he looked up into Nuada's golden eyes, John was distracted from answering. Nuada's touch earlier had been cool but now he seemed to radiate heat and it made John just aware of how close he was to the Elf. He could see the tightly coiled strength running up the length of Nuada's bare arms. The slightest shift made him aware of how close Nuada's thigh was to his own. He could smell the scent of earth and rain from him.

But it was Nuada's eyes that continued to captivate. This was much closer than John had ever been before and he could see into the depths of Nuada's eyes much more clearly now. That unreadable expression remained on Nuada's face but his eyes were more open and vulnerable than John was likely meant to notice.

John took in a deep, steadying breath. That strange feeling that had taken up residence inside him slithered to the forefront and John did not fight it. He was beginning to get an inkling of what was going on, though he could not name it. Not thinking, he answered Nuada on instinct. "I would be happy to have someone to share my life with. I think that mattered a great deal to me once. But . . . I don't know. Things changed. I feel . . . I don't feel _incomplete_ without someone else. I'd still like to find someone but if I don't, then I don't."

Nuada's stare intensified and John felt that the Elf was looking into his soul, evaluating the truthfulness of his statement. But he'd been honest. He'd never given it much thought before. When he was younger, he had accepted the convention of marriage and kids and the picket fence. He knew he'd be happy with that.

But he'd also watched his Uncle Thad, who was a single bachelor to the day he died. Uncle Thad had never seemed unhappy with his choices. He had dated some but seemed content with only family and friends. John knew he could be happy with that too.

There were times when John was lonely -- when he threw himself into work or studies or anything to just fill the time. But he hadn't had to do that for a long time. Not since he'd been hired by the BPRD. John was really happy where he was. He liked his work. He liked most of his coworkers and got on fairly well with his supervisors. Even Antarctica had been interesting and challenging in a good way.

He still occasionally wished he was going home to someone. Lately, though, he'd actually begun to feel as if something specific was missing. John hadn't realized it until now. Looking into Nuada's alien eyes, John realized that he spent the last few months with a feeling of anticipation sitting heavy in his stomach. He'd been so anxious to find out what had occurred when he'd disappeared because he was _waiting_ and nothing was happening. He _knew_ that something _had_ happened. He _knew_ something _should_ happen. Waiting for something he just _knew_ was supposed to happen but he couldn't name had made him restless and anxious.

Boldly, John reached up to gently wrap his hand around Nuada's arm. His skin was warm beneath John's fingers. Never breaking eye-contact, John saw that something flashed across Nuada's eyes when they touched but there was no other reaction.

That mysterious something flared a little brighter inside John and he was beginning to understand what he was waiting for.

Just as the pieces were about to fall into place for him, Nuada unexpectedly withdrew. John's hand felt cold with the sudden loss of contact.

Nuada again stood near the bed. As John levered himself up to sit, he watched the Elf glance to the Alphyn. "So, you weren't always whole," Nuada murmured, as if to himself. "It _can_ be filled."

The Alphyn cocked its head to the side as if it too had no idea what Nuada was going on about. John thought that Nuada wasn't actually _seeing_ the Alphyn. There was something going on in his head.

Before John could ask, Nuada snapped himself back to focus and turned to look at John. "Breakfast will be served shortly. You may avail yourself of a bath first." He pointed toward the adjacent alcove where John had washed up before bed last night.

"I will await your presence in the atrium."

Nuada did not wait for John's assent. Whirling around on his heel, he disappeared through the hanging curtains. John looked at the Alphyn. The great big beast merely shook its mane and then settled its head back on its paws.

Sighing, John threw the covers off and got up to do as he was bid. Hopefully that would give Nuada some time to compose himself and figure out whatever was bothering him.

 

***

 

Freshly washed and wearing his own pants but one of Nuada's pale shirts, John wandered into the atrium. Nuada was already sitting at the table, though he hadn't touched any of the food already laid there. He appeared lost in thought but his attention snapped to John as soon as John entered.

A slight narrowing of the eyes was the only outward sign that Nuada noticed John was wearing one of his shirts. Since he'd ruined his own shirt patching up the cut on his arm, John didn't feel guilty about borrowing this one. He was ready to tell Nuada as much but the Elf didn't say anything.

Instead, he gestured to the impressive spread of food and said, "Help yourself."

Stomach growling since he'd jumped into the bath, John didn't need to be told twice. He slid into the seat opposite Nuada and grabbed the nearest fruit.

"Aren't you going to eat?" he asked when he saw Nuada's golden plate remained bare.

Lounging back in his chair, Nuada watched John cut the apple into slices. John wasn't keen on having his eating habits scrutinized for the entire breakfast but he wasn't going to let that stop him from eating either.

"I ate after the war-council," Nuada said.

"War-council? Does that have to do with the assault you planned last night?" Reminded of Nuada's plans yesterday, John glanced down at himself knowing that any wound Nuada had suffered would show up on John. He appeared unhurt.

Deadpan, Nuada said, "It does."

"And how did it go? Did you beat Ba-, Boa-," John stumbled on the name.

"Baoth," Nuada corrected patiently. "My warriors and I did track down and confront Baoth’s followers. Only the hardiest of his fighters remained and the battle was difficult. In the end, we were victorious. We were able to defeat the entirety of Baoth's forces but unfortunately he was able to get away."

"Get away?" John felt surprised. He quickly mastered the feeling, seeing immediately that Nuada was unlikely to welcome questions on what he undoubtedly viewed as a failure. Remembering their talk from yesterday, John's mind went immediately to his own situation. "Does that mean the civil war's not over?"

Hand outstretched on the table, Nuada drummed his fingers but otherwise he appeared calm as ever. "Baoth's faction has been defeated. There is no one he can go to for help, no one he can rally to his cause. The _war_ is over."

John noted the peculiar stress he put on the word and the way he paused before continuing, "However, the danger to you has not passed. Now that Baoth's forces have been defeated, the only effective way he has to strike at me is to strike at you."

Seeing immediately where this was going, John said, "So, you want me to stay here longer?" He didn't know how he felt about that.

Apparently Nuada didn't either. Gracefully getting to his feet, the Elf pulled out his knife. John watched as he grabbed a plate of meat and then wandered over to the Alphyn sitting back in its corner.

Feeding the meat to the beast from his knife, Nuada said, "You are clearly a desirable target for Baoth but he could hide forever. Even if you would consent to stay here, I could not guarantee your safety so long as Baoth lives. There are still some who . . . disapprove of our connection. They would aid him in getting to you where they would aid him in nothing else."

Nuada's back was to John so he couldn't see the Elf's expression. But he could see the line of his jaw and the way it tightened as he talked of this possible betrayal. Before John could ask again about their bond, Nuada straightened and turned to him. Once again there was no hint of emotion on his face as he said, "I have sent out my best trackers to seek Baoth. If they return empty-handed, I do not feel I can keep you here -- but I would not send you away without some form of protection. I have called a council for today of the priests and priestesses. You must be presented at court of course, but after that, I will ask the Sages if they cannot find some way to guard you against Baoth. We shall see what they have to say before anything else can be determined."

There was clear finality in his voice and John knew trying to get any more would be useless. Popping an apple slice into his mouth, John considered where he wanted to take this conversation now.

"Once you have taken care of Baoth, what will you do?" John asked. Glancing over at John, Nuada gave him a curious look. John squared his shoulders. "I mean, once you're king, are you going to try to awaken the Golden Army again? Or unleash something else to wipe out all humans?"

Nuada's expression became stony and hard to read. It wasn't outwardly hostile though, and John had difficulty reading the Elf.

Finished with feeding the Alphyn, Nuada calmly walked back to his seat. It wasn't until he was seated that his gaze finally settled back on John. Not entirely sure what kind of can of worms he had just opened, John tried his best not to squirm.

"I tried to awaken the Golden Army. My father and sister are dead because of my efforts, and the Golden Army is not in my possession. I could try again but I have lived long enough to see when the forces of the world are against me. My sister killed herself rather than allow me to save our people. The Sages who brought me back did not do so because they approved of my ends. That was made very clear to me."

John could see the tightening of Nuada's jaw again but that was the only sign of Nuada's feelings on the matter. He continued calmly, "You need not fear that I will again try to eradicate your kind. I do not now believe that any plan I could come up with would succeed. The world wishes humanity to exist and so it shall."

The bitterness in Nuada's tone was hard to listen to and John didn't like it. Nuada's focus had shifted inward for a moment but his eyes snapped back towards John. "When Baoth is dealt with, I shall be king without question. But it seems that I am fated to be king over a fading people. My reign will last only until my people have died away, and that time comes closer than ever."

"It doesn't have to be that way," John said. Nuada's expression remained stony and remote, his anger at the future he'd laid out a tangible presence in the room. "I don't think there are only two options here: your people or mine. We've lived together for so long and--"

"We may have inhabited the same sphere but we have not been _together_ ," Nuada said coldly.

John did not let the interruption deter him. "And maybe that's the problem. I don't know what your people need to thrive. I don't know what my people are doing exactly that's hurting you. But that's the thing; I don't _know_. You've kept us at arm's length, and I understand that. After what happened, of course you would. But humans don't know about Elves anymore. The BPRD does all it can to keep everything magical under wraps. So, people don't know they're hurting you. But I think if they did, a lot of them would try to do better. I think it's possible that we could find a compromise. We could find a space for you and your people to live."

Nuada snorted. "You think humans are so magnanimous. Humans destroy what they cannot control."

"Some humans, yes," John said. "But, yes, I do think that out of the _billions_ of humans on this planet you will find a fair number who are willing to hear you out and see your side of things. At the very least, you'd get a seat at the table when decisions are being made. Right now, people don't even know they should be concerned with your interests because they don't know you _exist_. But if you were to reach out to humans, I'm sure some people would be willing to take your needs into consideration and come to an arrangement that would benefit you. At the very least you wouldn't be up against the _entire_ human race. You might even have humans on your side."

Nuada looked decidedly unconvinced and John let out a frustrated sigh. "Will you at least consider the possibility?"

"I consider everything," Nuada said coolly, still looking completely against the idea. John bit back another sigh and reminded himself that Nuada had spent thousands of years hating humans. He wasn't just going to let that go easily. Getting a dialogue started was a great first step but John knew he shouldn't push it.

Besides, Nuada hadn't fully secured his kingship yet anyway. As long as Baoth was still out there, Nuada could not rule fully.

Thinking of Baoth reminded John of the bond he had with Nuada -- the bond that was a liability to Nuada. John slathered butter onto a piece of bread and let the quiet seep in as he considered how he wanted to broach the topic. It was clear that Nuada did not like the subject and he wasn't in the best of moods.

John concentrated on eating half his meal and giving Nuada some time for his anger to cool.

Eventually, he said quietly, "I want to know more about the bond we share."

Focus once again more inward than outward, Nuada's eyes snapped in John's direction again. The look he gave John was unfriendly and guarded. "You already know what you need to know."

"I disagree." John kept his tone quiet and polite, not wanting to provoke Nuada again. But he hoped his determination was evident on his face. "You still haven't answered why I was the one who was chosen."

Beginning to sound irritated, Nuada said, "I told you, the Sages determined--"

"--that we already had a bond.  Yes, I know that. But when did this bond form? Why me? I don't understand that. I couldn't have been born with this bond."

"Why not?" Nuada sounded genuinely surprised.

John reacted with equal surprise, "Well, I'm human. We don't have these kinds of bonds. I think I would've noticed if you and I were connected before now. I think the fact you _died_ would've been a pretty big tip-off."

A hint of unease settled over Nuada's expression, though he still looked faintly puzzled. "Why would my death have affected you?"

"Well, it wouldn't, not if we weren't connected. See, that's what I'm saying. The bond couldn't have been there when you died because it would've killed me too. That's why I'm here, right? Because my death would cause yours and vice versa. But that wasn't true a year ago because I didn't feel you die. So, I want to know when and how this bond was formed."

The unease in Nuada's expression grew. He again got to his feet, apparently needing to move to contain himself. "You did not know me then. You could not be affected by someone you did not know."

"Well, I can't say I know you now. I don't know anything about you and you . . . Wait. Elves are telepathic, right? At least a little? Can you read me? Is that what you did this morning?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Nuada looked even more ill-at-ease. "The thoughts of a human do not interest me."

_That's not a "no",_ John thought. In his head, he felt something weird. It was like a rubber band had been pulled and then snapped back at him. For an instant, he swore he felt Nuada's emotions and he felt _guilty_. The reminder of their connection had made Nuada seek out their bond on instinct but then just as quickly slam the door shut between them.

That rejected feeling John had had when he'd first seen Nuada reborn came back to him. He swallowed it back and focused on the conversation.

"But you can. Maybe without meaning to something's slipped through. Is that why we're bonded? Because you know me? Did you meet me before and I just don't remember it? Like I didn't remember the Elves taking me?"

Apparently reaching some kind of limit, Nuada turned and slammed his hands on the table. "We are bonded because we are. That is all the explanation there is. From the moment of your birth, we have been connected. Perhaps humans do not have such bonds. I wouldn't be surprised," he said nastily. "But you are bound to me and so the bonds of Elves connect us. No one knows where they come from. The Sages say they are gifts from the Gods." He practically spat the words out, clearly disliking the idea. "Does it really matter where the bond comes from? It just is."

Surprised by the vehemence of Nuada's reaction, John stayed quiet. He watched Nuada watch him for a moment before growling and stalking away to pace in the center of the atrium. Clearly the loss of control irritated Nuada, and John now knew enough to give him a moment.

Besides, John needed a moment himself. He was still confused. Nuada believed they had been bound together since John's birth. And yet, as John said, he hadn't experienced any of Nuada's injuries until recently. Was it Nuada's rebirth that had affected their bond? Nuada was adamant that their bond was not like his bond with Nuala but perhaps John had taken over that bond to allow Nuada's birth.

Across the room, Nuada sighed in frustration. He turned back to John. "Our bond has nothing to do with my bond to my sister," he said.

Alarmed, John said, "Can you read my mind?"

Nuada looked darkly amused. "You are _feeling_ loudly but no, I cannot read your mind. Not exactly."

He walked back to his seat, once again the image of calm and poise. Although, in the back of his head, John swore he could feel the tempest inside Nuada. Despite his outward calm, Nuada's eyes were stormy.

Inhaling slowly, Nuada said, "My bond to you is not familial in nature. I believe your people would call us soulmates." Nuada made a face when he said it, and John felt his stomach drop. "Our bond is the same one shared between spouses. Most Elves share deep bonds with their mates. It is not unheard of for the bond to form before the Elves even meet. Sometimes it forms at birth. But a bond is not complete just for existing. You and I are connected and have been for a long time. I would believe it could be the entirety of your life and perhaps before that too. But that is not enough to make the bond affect you. We must connect for that to happen."

"And that's why we share injuries? We've connected? Was it the ritual to bring you back?"

The uneasy expression returned to Nuada's face. "A bond must be acknowledged. One way or another."

There was such a dark note to his voice that John didn't know what to say. Nuada looked again as if he was talking more to himself than John. Dragging his focus back, Nuada looked frustrated and defeated.

He mastered himself quickly to answer John's central question. "When trying to resurrect me, the Sages discovered I had a bond-mate who was alive and could be used to bind my soul once more to the living world. You are that bond-mate. Why it is you is not a question anyone could answer." John noted the way Nuada's eyes slid away for a second when he said that.

"When I was brought back, I could not countenance keeping you with me when you did not have any say in the bond. I had not realized we were connected as my sister and I were. That . . . that is not usual." That uneasy look flashed over his face again but was quickly suppressed. "Physically connected or not, you are not obliged to honor our bond. You were taken without your consent. I do not apologize for that. My people need me alive. But I do not hold you to the bond we share. As you say, you do not know me. Once Baoth has been subjugated, there will be no one to hurt me. When you return to your people, everything will feel the same to you."

John highly doubted that. He was becoming more familiar with that little feeling in the back of his head. It might be because of their close proximity but he felt in his heart that distance wouldn't make him less aware of it -- wouldn't make him less curious about Nuada's side of that niggle at the back of his brain.

He didn't say anything about it though. He had a general idea of what was going on now. It was clear to him that Nuada was holding something back but John doubted he could get Nuada to divulge it. Besides, John was suddenly soulmates with the soon-to-be King of the Elves -- a King who just happened to hate humans. John had never really believed in soulmates but he could believe in such a concept for magical beings like Elves, so he didn't doubt Nuada's words.

So, that only left how John felt about the situation. And currently, he had no clue.

Unsettled, John pushed that away for now. Another question came to mind and he quickly seized it to distract himself from the huge revelation Nuada had just thrown at him.

"Have you been following me?"

Thrown out of his own thoughts, Nuada gave John a confused look. John clarified, "During my missions. I've had some close calls. I should've been grabbed by the tentacle-monster in the sewers when I looked down to reload my gun but it was suddenly distracted. I should've been run over by that car on Sixth and Lexington but it was suddenly on the other side of the street. I should've _died_ against that huge behemoth in the abandoned factory but it was sliced into pieces before I could get my breath back. Was that you?"

The neutral mask slammed back over Nuada's expression. Voice cold, he said, "I could not let any harm come to you. Your harm is my harm, hence your current presence here."

Heart beating a little faster at this confirmation, John asked, "How did you know when I would be in danger? Have you . . . have you been watching me?"

Nuada's jaw tightened, his voice was little more than a growl when he responded. "You have a penchant for getting yourself into danger. You run _at_ your enemies with no thought to your own safety or your ability to actually defeat the opponents you face. Clearly, you cannot be trusted to keep yourself in one piece."

A flash of danger in his eyes warned John about this line of questioning but John felt he had his answer. Nuada had been watching over him, and John had to wonder what exactly Nuada had seen in that time. John remembered the pure hate in Nuada's eyes when he had looked over to John on the stone altar and seen that his mate was human. That hatred was tempered now. Nuada was clearly still angry about humans in general but John hadn't seen that hatred directed at him specifically.

John nodded, letting Nuada know the explanation was enough and he would ask no more about it. Nuada looked suspicious for a moment before relaxing minutely.

For a few minutes, John made a show of appearing focused on finishing his breakfast. But he was actually chasing down that feeling at the back of his head. He knew what it was now. It was Nuada's presence inside him. John had never been connected to anyone before and he was curious. He didn't feel violated by the connection; it didn't feel disruptive. He wondered if it was the same for Nuada. He wondered what he could read from Nuada through their bond -- if the things that Nuada was skirting around were there.

Nuada suddenly frowned in John's direction, and John felt that rubber band snap again. Their connection was still there but John found himself cut off from the Elf's emotions. Though he knew he shouldn't be -- Nuada had the right to privacy and John would certainly want the same on his end -- John felt hurt.

Setting down his utensils, John met Nuada's eyes. Quietly, he asked, "If you could undo this bond -- if you could be free from me -- would you?"

Nuada's eyes widened before darting away. He'd tried to block John from feeling his emotions but the depth of his feeling still flooded back to John. John didn't know what the feelings meant though and he waited warily for Nuada's answer.

Clearing his throat, Nuada stood up. "Come. My court will be awaiting us."

Without waiting for John's acknowledgement, Nuada strode towards the exit. John sighed and slowly followed.

 

***

 

Neither of them said a word while they strode through the winding corridors. John was too distracted to pay much attention to his surroundings, and Nuada did not look in his direction even once.

Just as they reached a large gate, Nuada finally paused and turned to John.

"These are the Butcher Guards," he said, gesturing towards the large men with the wooden bird masks. John had seen them periodically throughout the large structures and immediately noted the imposing square blades they held. None had so much as twitched in reaction to his presence so he had paid them no mind in turn.

"They are the Royal Guard, charged with the protection of the Throne. As you are my bond-mate, you are under their protection as well. When we enter Court, you must stay behind them. Do I have you word?" Nuada said.

Glancing from one hulking guard to another, John nodded. Nuada studied him for a moment -- doubtless weighing his truthfulness -- before nodding also and turning to move through the large gateway.

John followed, finally really looking around. The gate opened up into a large inner courtyard. John would bet it was right in the center of the complex the Elves had taken residence in. There were several statues in different levels of decay and a dry fountain that made John think he was in an abandoned abbey. Moss and ivy clung to everything, creating a carpet of green and brown as plants cracked the paving stones and upended the neat little walkways that must have led from one side of the complex to the other.

Wide steps led out from the gate John had just passed through, creating a sort of dais for Nuada and the Butcher Guards. John noted how the Guards fanned out around the edges of the steps, creating a living barrier.

A sizable crowd of people and creatures stood in the courtyard, neatly clumped into groups to the side of the walkways. John hovered behind the Butcher Guards and watched as Nuada moved to the middle of the steps and addressed his Court.

"My people, I come before you with the news that our civil war is at an end," Nuada said, his voice pitched so he could be heard by all those assembled. There didn't seem to be any reaction to the news. Everyone regarded Nuada with a sort of dispassionate calm that was a little unnerving to witness.

It did not affect Nuada, who continued, "On the night last, my warriors and I engaged with the last of Lord Baoth's followers. All but Lord Baoth himself were captured or killed. As I promised when I was brought back to life, returning the House of Balor to the Throne has secured for Elfkind stability and a return to peace. I will continue to honor that promise."

Nuada paused and John could almost see him _not_ looking in his direction. He could feel the hesitation along their bond though, sharper than he'd felt anything yet and it made him frown.

Nuada showed none of this on his face though and the pause was almost imperceptible. To the crowd, Nuada appeared as self-assured and controlled as ever. "Many of you know the story of my restoration. You know that our priests and priestesses consulted the Gods, and I am returned because of their grace. I give you proof of my pledge in the form of the bond-mate they chose for me."

Unexpectedly the Butcher Guards right in front of John moved in unison and left John completely visible to the crowd in front of him. It was awkward for him to be the center of attention for such an alien assemblage, especially when he could not tell what they were thinking.

"When I honor my promise of peace, I do so at the behest of the Gods," Nuada said, turning the attention back to himself. "I would not thwart their will. They have made themselves quite clear."

A dark note crept into Nuada's voice and John stopped looking at the crowd to see that Nuada's expression was stony and his jaw was clenched. Through their bond, John could feel him struggling with something. It was the same thing he'd been struggling with since John had met him and John wished he knew what it was.

"By their edict, I will rule. I will honor my father and sister's wishes for our people. As the Gods have decreed."

"So you would have us believe!"

As one, everyone turned to look at the back of the courtyard where a cloaked figure stood. The shadow of the cloak left the face of the figure completely obscure but John could see by the pale hands and the white hair peeking out from the collar that it was an Elf.

"The House of Balor has again failed our people!" the figure said. "The old King did not have the stomach to finish what he started. He let our people languish to uphold his shameful truce. And now, he who would be the new King would lead us down the same path. Our 'champion' promised us an end to the humans' greed and dominion. He promised to use the Golden Army! But it was all lies to make the gullible believe that the humans cannot be defeated and our lot is to fade. Now, he offers you the same meek, passive reign his father gave us. His bond-mate is not a sign of the Gods; it is a sign of his shame. The only reason his tune has changed is for his own selfish ends. He is not fit to rule!"

"And who are you to say so?" Nuada demanded.

The figure threw off his cloak and said, "I am Lord Baoth, son of the great Faoin. I challenge you to the right to the throne!"

Murmurs rose up from the crowd. It was the first real reaction John had witnessed from them. Everyone, including John, turned to see Nuada's reaction.

"You are not of the royal blood, my Lord," Nuada said coldly. "Why should I honor your challenge?"

Baoth sneered at Nuada. "There was a time when the King accepted all challenges so that his people knew he was a fit commander. Are you so soft that you fear to fight?"

"I will not be goaded into a fight merely to please you. I have proven my worth many times," Nuada said calmly. John could feel storm-clouds along their bond though. He was fairly sure Nuada wanted nothing more than to order his guards to arrest Baoth. John wasn't sure why he didn't but he figured it wouldn't be politically wise.

"Not since your 'rebirth'. What do we know of you now? Before you died, you were willing to kill your own father to ensure the continuation of our people. Now, you meekly submit to your bond-mate. To a _human_ ," he sneered the word and turned such hate-filled eyes toward John that it was all John could do not to take a step back in response to the ferocity.

"Prove to us all now that you are the same Prince Nuada who would stop at nothing to preserve his people -- the same Nuada who _died_ trying to undo the terrible mistake his father made in calling a truce with humans. I say you are not. I say you are a puppet of the Sages and they have tied the great Nuada to humanity for their own ends. We all know that their power ends should magic-kind once again reassert themselves. They can no more tell us what the Gods decree than they can predict the weather. Your bond-mate is not a sign for peace. He is proof that the House of Balor is corrupt and twisted beyond all remedy and must be purged."

Baoth's words rang loudly in the quiet courtyard. To John's ears, the murmuring took on a shocked edge and he sensed that Baoth's words were bordering on blasphemous.

For a long moment, Nuada did nothing. He calmly regarded Baoth as one would something unpleasant found under one's shoe. The silence stretched long enough that the crowd grew restless. The tension in the air was stifling.

"You are too lowly to challenge me," Nuada finally said. His tone was cold and dismissive. But John could feel his anger was white-hot right now. The bond was growing stronger and John could only surmise that Nuada could not spare the effort to actively suppress it.

Baoth opened his mouth to retort but Nuada continued on, "However, I can see you would poison the minds of my people. You would entice them away from our ancient ways and turn your back on the Gods. I am still their servant. You are not worth my time, Baoth, but I will indulge your request. If you wish to hand your life over to me in combat, then so be it."

As if by some pre-agreed arrangement, the crowd backed away so that a large area of flat ground was left for the combatants. The Butcher Guards drew their weapons up defensively and took a few steps back, crowding John closer to the gate and out of harm's way.

In the shuffle, John lost sight of Nuada and the courtyard. When he tried to move forward, the Butcher Guards' swords came down to block him. John had to shift a bit before he could find a good spot to view the proceedings.

Nuada and Baoth each held a long silver sword as they circled around each other for a moment.

"Shall I await your pleasure all day, my Lord?" Nuada asked coolly. His words did the trick; Baoth immediately launched an angry attack. Having obviously goaded him into it, Nuada effortlessly parried and launched his own attack.

What followed was an impressive display of skill. There was quite a bit of acrobatics and more spinning than John thought was entirely necessary but he didn't know anything about swordplay so he hardly felt in a position to judge. It soon became clear to John that Nuada and Baoth were very closely matched. He wouldn't go so far as to say they were equal but John honestly couldn't tell who was the better.

Minutes ticked by, and as the fight continued, John was utterly engrossed by the quick flurry of strikes and elegant flips. Both Elves were beautiful in their deadly dance but John thought Nuada was especially so. He glided from one side of the courtyard to the other, his movements fluid and graceful.

Baoth was more economical in his movements. It made for a jerkier fighting style but his weapon seemed to end up where he wanted it so John couldn't say it was any less effective.

Nothing of note happened for a long ten minutes. The first blow was Nuada's. Using a series of tightly timed jabs, he managed to trip Baoth's footing and hit the other Elf with the butt of his sword. Baoth only faltered for a moment and quickly slipped away before Nuada could reposition his sword to strike him with the blade. This put Baoth on the defensive for a few moves but he recovered and the two continued to trade exploratory strikes.

The next hit was Baoth's. It was the smallest of cuts as Nuada wasn't quite fast enough to dodge a close swipe of the other Elf's sword. John would be surprised if anyone was aware of the cut, not even Nuada himself. But John felt it keenly. It was all he could do not to recoil and look down at his arm to see the wound for himself. Against the pale fabric of Nuada's shirt, John's blood would be easy to see.

There were a few such minor cuts that Nuada suffered. It was never anything that slowed Nuada down. To John, they stung but none were life-threatening and they likely didn't register at all to the more durable Elf.

On and on the fight went, and John was beginning to think the two were too evenly matched for either to win. Not sure how concerned he should be, John tried to find that little thread at the back of his brain. It had quieted considerably since the fight had started. All John could pick up was determination and focus. He thought he felt a hint of self-doubt shadowing Nuada's half of the bond but he didn't look too closely for fear he would distract Nuada.

By chance or design, the fighters moved so that Baoth was now before the Butcher Guards and Nuada was on the far side of the courtyard. Up until this point, neither Nuada nor Baoth had said a word. Now though, Baoth gave a triumphant grin and said, "Now you will see how far the great Nuada Silverlance has fallen!"

Suddenly, he drew a dagger from his belt and threw it straight at John's heart. While John could not react at all, the Butcher Guard nearest him moved his arm to block the attack. But all the guard achieved was to deflect the dagger's path from John's heart. It lodged heavily in John's chest, sending him staggering backwards at the impact.

The pain in his chest was terrible, but John's first thought was for Nuada. Looking up, John's eyes locked on Nuada's. John would never in all his days forget the expression on Nuada's face -- eyes wide and startled, Nuada looked utterly horrified. The bond at the back of John's head roared to life and John could feel the sudden ice-water feeling rocketing through Nuada's veins.

" _No!_ "

The word was not said aloud but it echoed through John's brain like Nuada had yelled it in his ear.

Doubtless banking on the shock of John's attack to distract Nuada, Baoth had immediately charged toward Nuada as soon as he'd seen his dagger buried in John's chest. Despite his surprise at the underhanded attack, Nuada was not caught unaware.

There was an instant right before Baoth's sword came down to decapitate Nuada that John could see Nuada's expression. He saw the moment Nuada's focus turned to Baoth and he saw Nuada's look of shock had melted into one of utter rage.

The Butcher Guards closing ranks around him blocked John's view for a moment. John was still able to stand, though breathing was becoming difficult. He hadn't looked to see the wound on Nuada's chest. He needed to see how the injury affected his ability to fight. John had to make sure he wasn't the cause of Nuada's defeat.

If Baoth had been counting on John's injury to slow Nuada down, he was sorely mistaken. If anything, it seemed to have lit a fire under Nuada. It was as if Nuada had only been toying with Baoth before but now he held nothing back. Baoth had made this personal -- that was clear. Nuada's assault was now ruthless and savage. He did not let up for an instant. Baoth was put on the defensive almost immediately and Nuada never gave up his advantage. In no time at all, Baoth was pushed back to the very spot he'd thrown the dagger from.

Face screwed up in a furious mask, Nuada looked positively terrifying as he swept Baoth's feet from under him. Baoth didn't even have time to plead for mercy before he was neatly beheaded.

John only noticed this distantly. The pain in his chest was stronger now, harder to ignore. The first flecks of blood were on his lips and he knew it was only a matter of time. He tried to remain calm and upright, knowing that if he could keep the dagger from jostling and his breathing steady, he might survive.

But his heart was beating too fast and he began to feel dizzy. Just as Nuada delivered the finishing blow, John was falling. He gasped at how hard he hit the concrete step, which set off fire inside his chest and made him cough. More blood came up. Lying down made it even more difficult to breathe and John felt the first stirrings of panic.

"John."

Nuada was suddenly there, hands gentle as they sought to pull John back to a sitting position. Pain ricocheted through him as he was repositioned. He began to feel lightheaded and the world around him was growing fuzzy.

But his eyes moved unerringly to Nuada's chest, right where the wound must surely be. He didn't know if it was his injury causing a deficit in his perception or something else but John didn't see any blood. Nuada wore the same pale shirt John did -- but there was nothing there.

Confused and scared, John's last memory was of the anxious look in Nuada's eyes

 

***

 

The first thing John was aware of was a quiet beeping. It took a tremendous effort to open his eyes and for several minutes he didn't even attempt it. When he finally managed to look around, he found himself in the familiar confines of the BPRD infirmary.

"Hey, look who's awake."

Turning his head, John saw Agent Slate sauntering into the infirmary. John opened his mouth to reply but only ended up coughing. His mouth was incredibly dry.

Grabbing a glass of ice chips, Slate was quickly at his side and offering support while John tried to get the coughing under control.

"Hey, take it easy," Slate said gently. "You're not going to be on your feet any time soon."

Once John felt stable enough, he said, "W-what happened?"

"We were hoping you could tell us. After those Elves attacked us, you just disappeared. Then a day later, we found you with a dagger in your chest. You're lucky to be alive. If you hadn't already been in the infirmary when we found you, the doctors might not have been able to save you."

John sucked on an ice chip for a moment before saying, "You didn't see who brought me?"

Slate shook his head. "Didn't catch it on camera either. One moment you weren't there and then you were. Do you know how that happened?"

His tone was still very kind but John could see the eagle-eyed way Slate was looking at him. Popping another ice chip into his mouth, John tried to think what to say. How was he going to explain this? They saw some weird shit, it was true, but being soulmates with the Elf who had tried to destroy all humankind was a whole other level, especially as John was going to have to convince his superiors that Nuada wasn't going to try to annihilate them again.

Frowning, John then wondered if he could be sure of that. Nuada had said he wouldn't and John hadn't sensed he was lying but could John really be sure? Could he really afford to leave it alone? What if Nuada changed his mind?

"Hey, you okay?" Slate reached out to squeeze John's shoulder.

"I . . ." Was he okay? John had no idea. He'd only been gone for two days and everything had changed. What was going to happen now? Baoth was dead; did that mean Nuada didn't need him anymore and he could go back to his life? But weren't they still connected? Didn't that make John a liability to Nuada? Nuada had said he was going to consult the Sages to see if there wasn't some kind of protection for John; was he still going to do that? Was he waiting for John to get better?

Or did it not matter now?

"John." Grabbing his other shoulder, Slate turned John so that they were facing each other fully and John had to pay attention. "Are you okay? Are you safe?"

"I think so," John said slowly. He was Nuada's soulmate after all and Nuada was a formidable opponent. John didn't know if he could say the same for the rest of humanity but he was fairly sure that Nuada wasn't going to hurt him and after Baoth's death, John imagined most magical creatures would think twice before attacking John to get to Nuada.

"Okay," Slate said. "You don't have to tell me if you don't feel up to it. I can only imagine what you've been through. If you need some time to process, I understand. Doc Pine will be by later. You think you can talk to her?"

Not sure, John nodded nonetheless. He withstood Slate's close scrutiny as best he could. Finally Slate squeezed his shoulders and said, "I'm going to get you some more ice. Hang in there, kid. It'll be alright. We won't let you get taken again."

Slate's smile was reassuring and confident but as he left, John had to wonder if he wanted Slate to be able to keep that promise or not.

 

***

 

Four weeks later, John finally received permission to leave the infirmary and not a moment too soon.

"I think I can manage to get to my room without an escort," he told Agent Slate.

"Doctor's orders," Slate said easily. He was carrying a small bag with John's meds, which seemed a little silly as John had two free hands. Still, he was so glad to finally be out of the infirmary that he didn't really mind.

The walk from the infirmary to his room was a short one but they were stopped by a fair number of agents who offered John their well wishes. He was heartened that he had been missed. But all the interaction was a little more than John had bargained for and he was actually fairly wiped by the time he entered his room.

"Home again, home again." Slate's voice was annoyingly chipper. "Remember, you're supposed to take it easy for another two weeks and absolutely no duty whatsoever so ignore any alarms that go off."

John snorted as he wandered over to his desk. A pile of cards and flowers had been left for him, and he was again touched at the thoughtfulness of his fellow agents.

"You going to need any help?" Slate asked, dropping John's meds on a chair and heading towards the bathroom to pour him a glass of water.

"Nah, I think I got it. But if you're offering to be at my beck and call for the next few weeks, I pretty sure I could think of a few things that need scrubbing."

Wrinkling his nose, Slate set the glass of water on John's bedside table and took a step towards the door. "Funny man. Your comm's got a direct line to Cole if you need anything tonight, but I have a date and you're not cute enough to compete with that."

John laughed but then grimaced as that put strain on his healing chest. His lung had collapsed and part of his rib had broken. It still hurt like a bitch when he breathed too hard.

Instantly sober, Slate took John's elbow and gently pushed him to sit down on the bed. "Seriously, take it easy," he said, bending down to help John take off his shoes. Bending down really sucked as it compressed his chest. Slate had been hovering for the last four weeks so he knew what John had trouble with.

"I will, I promise," John said as Slate set his shoes neatly by the wall. "I'm actually looking forward to a long nap. You can't sleep properly in the infirmary."

"I hear you," Slate said with a smile. He again asked if John needed anything else and then finally left.

The room was very quiet in his absence. For a moment John considered getting up to change into his own pajamas but he was dressed in sweats and that seemed comfortable enough. So, he flopped back onto the bed and tried to get comfortable.

He hadn't lied when he'd said the infirmary was too busy for real sleep. It was also too busy for him to really think. In the quiet, his mind couldn't help going back to Nuada and everything that had happened. John felt like he hadn't really had a moment to soak it all in.

There hadn't been a sign of Nuada since he'd woken up. When he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could feel that little niggle at the back of his brain that let him know Nuada was still well. But either distance or Nuada shutting things down on his end meant John couldn't really tell any more than that.

John had no idea what was going on with Nuada and the magical realm. He still had the same questions whirling around in his head and he knew there would be no answers until he saw Nuada again.

_If_ he saw Nuada again.

That only left his own side of the equation, and he still wasn't sure what to think or feel about what had happened. Closing his eyes, he recalled the feel of Nuada's touch upon his skin -- the way Nuada's hand had rested over his heart. It was easy to admit that Nuada was attractive. But John was stymied because he had no idea if Elves had the same kind of relationships that humans did. Nuada was a passionate person but he was also very old. If they ended up together, was sex in the cards?

Maybe John was getting ahead of himself. He barely knew Nuada at all, and what he did know suggested Nuada would be happy to have nothing to do with him.

But John couldn't stop thinking about the 'soulmates' part of their bond and that brought up all sorts of domestic considerations. John didn't know if he and Nuada really were compatible but he had come to the conclusion that if Nuada could see him as a potential equal, then John was willing to see if they could work out. John liked the idea of being with someone. It didn't have to be easy. He didn't need to be assured it would work out. He just wanted to be sure Nuada respected him.

John also couldn't help latching onto that faint connection at the back of his brain. He didn't know if he believed in soulmates but it was a nice idea to think there was someone just for him. If it were up to him, he wouldn't let an opportunity like this pass him by.

But that went back to Nuada's side of things. What did he want? He hadn't seemed pleased but John had to wonder about that. On an instinctive level, John thought Nuada was more conflicted about the situation than he'd let on. Conflicted wasn't rejection, and John could work with that if Nuada was willing.

Of course, all of this might be academic. Nuada was going to be King of the Elves. John might have no place in his world. John struggled to figure out how to fit Nuada into his own world and he worked at the BPRD where weird was normal. He could imagine how difficult it would be for Nuada even if he weren't King. Maybe it _would_ be easier for them both to walk away and leave their bond unattended.

John just wanted to know where things stood. How long should he wait? Should he seek Nuada out and demand answers? Should he give Nuada more time to figure out what he wanted and come to John?

Sighing, John hauled the pillow more firmly under his head and tried to push it all out of his mind. The only thing he knew was that he couldn't really settle anything until he spoke to Nuada, and John wasn't up to tracking down anyone in his current condition.

He really did need some uninterrupted sleep.

For an indeterminate amount of time he drifted but real sleep eluded him. Just as before, the feeling of being watched slowly penetrated into his tired brain.

When he turned this time, Nuada was not seated on the edge of his bed. In the dark room John almost convinced himself there was nothing there at all and his tired mind was playing tricks on him.

But he knew that wasn't the case. He could _feel_ it.

Peering into the gloom, it took him a moment to pick out the heavily shadowed figure standing by the wall.

"Nuada?"

John flicked on the light. The warm glow of the bedside table lamp was too soft to illuminate the shadowed walls completely but it did momentarily blind John. Squinting, John could now identify his guest as an Elf but the shadows clung to every hollow and he could not make out the face.

He didn't feel he needed to.

Wanting to be on a more level field when having this conversation, John moved to lever himself to a sitting position. However, this put pressure on his chest and he hissed in pain.

Nuada was instantly by his side, strong hand slipping under his arm to take the pressure off his hands and gently pull him up.

Now able to see him properly, John just watched Nuada watch him. He waited for the Elf to say something but Nuada remained silent and the atmosphere began to feel awkward.

"Please, sit. You're gonna give me a neckache standing like that." John patted the bed beside him.

Hesitating, Nuada eventually did as bid. His body remained stiff and he seemed to be keeping a careful distance from John, careful that they did not touch.

Not sure of the situation, John waited. He seized the opportunity to just look at Nuada. He had a distressing feeling that this might be the last time he would see the Elf -- that Nuada was only here to tell him they should remain apart.

The idea hurt more than John expected it to.

"How are you doing?" Nuada finally said, nodding towards John's chest.

Many people had asked John this very question over the last few weeks. He would smile and assure everyone he was doing better. But Nuada wasn't just anyone and John intended that this conversation would have some solid substance. If Nuada was going to walk away, John wanted to hear it.

"You know how I'm doing," John said softly. "I'm sure you can feel it."

After a moment, Nuada nodded and was again silent. He was terribly difficult to read and John found it hard to keep pushing.

But he did anyway. "I . . . I can't say the same. What about you? Are you okay?"

Nuada appeared confused, so John gestured towards the Elf's chest. Now understanding, Nuada said, "I was not hurt."

"But aren't we connected? I've gotten all your other wounds, and I've seen you get some of mine. I know you received a bunch of cuts from Baoth because I ended up with them too. So, what? If it's life-threatening, it won't be passed along?"

Nuada seemed unprepared for John's questions. "No, that's not . . . It's not . . . I . . ." He finally stopped and shook his head as if to clear away his confusing attempts at explaining.

"I didn't come for that," Nuada finally said. John was about to protest but Nuada did not give him a chance to speak. "I came to let you know your safety is more assured now. I have been crowned King. Baoth's death seems to have silenced the majority of opposition. I have spent the last weeks ensuring that there are none who would take up his cause but my people are tired of fighting. Baoth's ways have been tried twice now and failed twice. My people take it as a sign that my father's rule was just."

Still wanting to know why Nuada hadn't been wounded when John was, John nonetheless could see he'd have to broach that subject more delicately so he allowed this change in topic. "I got that sense at your Court too. You were talking about the Gods and their will, and Baoth said it was a crock. I didn't understand it all. What did he mean?"

For a long moment Nuada looked as unhappy with this question as he had with John's previous one and John feared he would not answer. But the moment passed, and in a tight voice Nuada said, "When the Sages learned that you were my bond-mate, they proclaimed that it was a sign from the Gods that Elves and humans must work together. Many of my people are hopeful that our union promises that I will be able to unite our peoples and find a path of peace and reconciliation. Even though most Elves and magical creatures do not think well of humans, we greatly value peace. We have tried war in the past and we have tried isolation. Neither has profited us. The Sages believe that my bond to you is not mere chance. I am of the royal blood. I would not be bonded to a human if there was no greater purpose to it. So, they read your presence to mean that we will unite and I will be the instrument to do it."

Nuada's tone remained very flat as he spoke, and John couldn't tell if he agreed with the Sages or not. Nuada continued, "Baoth and those like him disagree. They do not believe the Sages can read anything of the Gods. We have not spoken directly to them since Aiglin the Father Tree was a sapling, which was well before even my father's youth. The Sages use their magic to divine meaning but there is no way to really know if they are right or wrong. Politically, it is advantageous to me to believe that the Gods ordained our bond and thus peace. Baoth believed that my bond to you proves that I am tainted and that it is actually a sign that I am a human lapdog with no concern for my own people."

As unobtrusively as he could, John shifted back when Nuada said this. Nuada's voice was controlled but the tension in the air around him was suffocating. John honestly thought he might break something in anger.

To distract him, John tentatively said, "So, um, if Baoth and his followers are gone, does that mean most of your people are okay with me? I always thought I was persona non grata among the Elves."

Nuada took a moment to consider his response before replying, "Elves are very old, and we do not forget. There are many among my people who suffered the loss of immediate family at the hands of humans millennia ago. But it _was_ a long time ago and most of my people can recognize that times have changed. I . . . I was actually thinking on your suggestion that some of our problems stemmed from a lack of communication. I think there is some truth in that. As you say, it is worth considering and I . . . well, I thought that it might be beneficial to have a human representative present among my court to counsel us in our decisions regarding humanity. As my bond-mate, I feel you will be better accepted than anyone else. Would you find such a position tolerable?"

The unexpectedness of the offer startled John. He started to consider it but then noted the way Nuada's eyes strayed to John's chest and the wound hidden under his shirt. Ignoring Nuada's request, John reached into the back of his brain to find that faint hint of a bond.

Grabbing onto it as best he could, he waited until Nuada's head snapped up in response and said, "Nuada, I want you to be honest with me. What's the real reason you're asking me to be a human liaison?"

When Nuada opened his mouth -- obviously to tell John there was nothing else -- John reached out and wrapped his hand around Nuada's arm. "I mean it," he said earnestly. "I know it's easy to hide behind the pretense but that's only going to prolong whatever it is that you want. So, what _is_ it that you want? What's really going on? Please tell me, Nuada. This can only work if you're honest. If we're _both_ honest. I'm not your enemy. Whatever it is, the truth is the truth and we can't change that. So, please, tell me what you need."

Nuada looked down at where John's hand covered his arm. The fall of his hair concealed his expression but John could feel the tension in the muscles beneath his fingers. John knew this was huge, and he held his breath as he waited. He wasn't sure if Nuada would actually open up or not, and he wasn't sure what to do next if Nuada proved stubborn.

When he finally spoke, Nuada's words were soft. "I do not frighten easily. I cannot remember the last time I was truly frightened." Nuada looked up to meet John's eyes, and he looked so vulnerable that John's heart squeezed in sympathy. "But I was terrified when I saw the dagger strike you. I thought I'd lost you and I . . ."

Nuada quickly looked away. John could see his chest inflate around the steadying breath he took, and it was all he could do not to reach out and offer comfort. Along their bond, traces of that fear began to seep and it gave John an idea of just how affecting his injury had been.

With great effort, Nuada dragged his gaze back to meet John's. "Bond-mates do not share physical wounds. The bond my sister and I shared was _extremely_ rare, even among Elves. It is only because we are twins and we were so close that our bond expressed itself thusly. But it should never be like that between soulmates. When Baoth said I was tainted, it wasn't only because I was connected to a human. It was because your hurt was my hurt, and that should not have been. By injuring you, he hoped not only to gain the upper hand in our battle but also the upper hand in his argument against me by showing the Elves I had . . ."

"You had what?" John prompted when Nuada trailed off. That guilty vibe was again thrumming along their bond but John could see it just as well in Nuada's eyes.

It took a long minute before Nuada finally spoke. "When I was returned to life and saw you were my bond-mate, I . . . When I saw you were _human_ , I-I rejected you. I shut down the bond as best I could. But I told you. A bond must be acknowledged, one way or another. When I refused it, it showed itself in another way and so we were physically connected instead of emotionally connected. Even if you are human, you are my bond-mate and that is a sacred thing among Elves. Baoth not only hoped to wound me but to show to the Elves how I had rejected you and so I was unworthy two times over of the kingship."

"But you weren't hurt," John noted.

Nuada swallowed. "No." It was barely a whisper. "I was so angry when I was reborn. Angry and lost. I was used to feeling my sister's presence beside my own. I was not made to be without a bond. And I had one. I had you. But that infuriated me because you were everything I had vowed to destroy. You were the reason my sister and father were gone and I was alone. But, as time passed, my anger cooled a little and I couldn't help being curious about you. I told myself that I followed you only to make sure Baoth and the other factions did not learn of you -- that it was purely out of self-interest on my part. But I watched you for months and I . . ."

Gently Nuada reached out with his free hand to cup John's face. His skin was so warm to the touch. "In all my years, I have never seen anyone like you." Nuada's hand slid down from John's cheek to rest on his chest. "Your heart is so pure, so good. I saw how brave and persistent you were in battle, and how kind and forgiving you were to your friends. I didn't know what to make of you. I still don't. But I . . . Things changed and I no longer watched over you for my sake alone but because I disliked seeing you hurt. When Baoth stabbed you and I thought I would lose you, I understood my heart truly and I finally acknowledged our bond. That is why your wound did not affect me. Or rather, I should say your wound did not break open my flesh because it broke my heart instead."

Having heard about his pure heart before, John was nonetheless surprised at just how affected Nuada seemed to be by this revelation. John was equally stunned at what Nuada was implying and he didn't know what to say.

After another steadying breath, Nuada said, "Over the many months I watched over you, I became fascinated by you. But when I finally had you with me and I was able to speak to you properly . . . I now realize why you are my bond-mate and I have come to love you very dearly. I know you do not--"

Knowing where this was going, John reacted quickly. He released Nuada's arm and quickly put his hand over Nuada's mouth so Nuada could say no more. It only lasted a second before John pulled his hand away and gave Nuada an awkward smile for being so brazen.

"There's still a lot I don't understand about what's going on," John said. "But I think you're very interesting. I think you're very attractive. This bond is a little weird for me but not something that I can't live with. I haven't known you very long but I think I could easily come to care for you. I can't make any promises but I'm willing to see where this goes between us. The only things I ask are that you are honest with me and you treat me respectfully."

"I do respect you." The firmness of Nuada's tone was reassuring. "And I will work on being more honest."

John smiled. "I think I'll have to work on that bit myself too."

It grew quiet again but it felt more comfortable this time. Nuada's eyes slid down to where his hand lay over John's heart. John wondered if he could feel how fast his heart was racing. He'd never had anyone declare their love for him before. When he'd done so, Nuada had also stopped suppressing his end of their bond as he had nothing else to hide. So, now John had a confusion of emotions bubbling along in the back of his brain. It was almost too much at once.

Nuada's eyes snapped up to meet John's. He looked faintly alarmed and John felt the bubbling emotions in the back of his brain ease. As he was realizing Nuada had muffled his emotions for John's sake, Nuada moved his hand from John's chest back up to cradle John's face

Nuada offered John a faint smile. "It seems we both have some adjusting to do."

Using his grip, Nuada gently pulled John to him and pressed a tender kiss to John's lips. John was surprised by the gesture but melted easily into Nuada's embrace when the Elf wrapped his arms around him.

He did not let go when the kiss ended. John thought it actually felt nice to be held like this, though he would never admit to that aloud. From the niggle at the back of his brain, he figured Nuada knew anyway.

Just as he felt Nuada was about to draw away, John whispered, "Stay, please."

He felt the way Nuada paused before laying his head against John's and John knew Nuada would stay the night. Closing his eyes, John trusted Nuada to take care of him and finally gave into his weariness.

He fell asleep still held in Nuada's arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to send a HUGE thank you to my wonderful betas: gonergone, LeaperSonata, Penniform, and Ridiculous Mavis. They were truly invaluable. All remaining mistakes are mine.


End file.
